Private Tales On The Rocks

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

It was sunset, and just as the sun was finishing it’s day, Mikelle was finishing his as well. The last of his deliveries of Fallowbridge wine was completed. The deliveries had been mostly private homes, and while the carriage and horse were his, the working hands and guard whom had joined him for the day were local folk of the city of Alliria itself, not help from his family estate. In fact, the guard was one actually afforded to the Fallowbridge by one of the ritzy families that had desired their wine, and simply didn’t trust the roads travelling from the rural vineyard to inner city. With the day over, Mikelle parted ways with the employees.

They headed home to their families somewhere within Alliria. It was time for Mikelle to rest too but heading home at this hour wasn’t an option Mikelle was ever keen on; while trouble from bandits wasn’t something he’d personally run into before, he’d always heard the howl of unseen wolves in the dark. He was never too sure if it was highwaymen with a secret code between them, or actual hungry wolves, but neither were something Mikelle wanted to ever chance meeting.

So, Mikelle would stay in Alliria for the night. His parents wouldn’t expect him home until sometime tomorrow anyways, so it would be just fine like this.

Earlier that afternoon and upon reaching the first uppercrust neighborhood, Mikelle had paid for a room at a well-to-do inn, and yet he wasn’t so quick to go retreating back to his bedroom now that his work was done. He had the evening to himself here in Alliria, and there was even still a bit of light left! Now was the chance to have his own little adventure!

First stop was to the shops before all of them were closed. The clothing stores he was interested in were done for the day, but it seemed there were enough night owl academics in the city to keep a bookstore and stationery shop open a good while longer. He simply mosied through the bookstore for the fun of it before spending a good amount of coin on a small yet thick pad of paper and an especially pretty quill.

Stored in a small bag he brought along with him, Mikelle avoided the inn a while longer and simply began to walk the streets. The estates were quiet and dark at night; everyone went to sleep as soon as the stars were visible. Alliria was different, and Mikelle liked to see the orange glow of the alive town. He was content to just explore a little while longer and see what there was to see.

When he reached a little bridge between neighborhoods, Mikelle paused. He rested his hands on its stone railing and looked out at the horizon. He could see well into the distance; building after building with lights within them. The colors of the sky colored the waters of the strait, stretching into the distance. It was so unlike the little kettle pond back home. Mikelle leaned against the stone. He wanted to stay just a little bit longer to watch the ships maneuver the waters.



Zilvra

 

[Zilvra]

As Mikelle took a leisurely stroll through the town, he had not the slightest clue that he was being followed. A fine oak carriage drawn by four horses made it's way slowly across the cobblestone streets, passing by citizen after citizen. It was only when the area became quiet and there were no people close enough to interfere that the carriage sped up slightly, passing by Mikelle before coming to a stop. Of course, poor Mikelle would have no reason to be suspicious, so the poor man ended up practically walking into his captors arms.

As soon as Mikelle walked past the carriage, quickly throwing a sack over the man's head before locking his arms around him and dragging him into the carriage. As soon as Mikelle was inside the carriage, the stranger pulled a dagger from it's sheath at his hip and held it to Mikelle's throat, a very clear warning for the man to keep his mouth shut.

Mute despised this part of the job. Granted, in his line of work, he met quite a few nasty specimens that he was more than happy to deliver a solid beating to, but harming and threatening innocent nobles who had probably never been in fight in their lives. It was degrading, not to mention morally reprehensible. Still, he supposed he couldn't complain too much. This was all just a little scare tactic after all. No real harm would come to the man... So long as he didn't try anything stupid, at least.

"Mikelle Fallowbridge, I assume," a soft, silvery female voice came from the other side of the carriage. "Please do remain calm, this is a very friendly visit, I assure you. I do advise you not to struggle though. My associates hands can get rather fidgety. We wouldn't want his blade to slip, I'm sure." A very friendly warning all things considered. Zilvra was polite like that.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Mikelle wasn't a person even the slightest bit on guard. He'd not realized a thing was unusual until there was a bag over his head. Everything happened so fast. He didn't know what was happening until he felt the cold thin edge of a blade threatening him. The winemaker stiffened as if frozen solid. His lips were tight and he bit his inner cheek in order to fight the instinct to squawk in terror.

He assumed his pockets would be rifled through. That they'd take what he had before shoving him out. Mugged, but over quickly enough. He didn't expect anyone to talk. Nevermind know his name. The young Fallowbridge jumped a little when his name was spoken out loud by one of the strangers in the carriage. She had a luxurious voice without a hint of haste or panic. The woman was absolutely and utterly in control.

"Mm-mmhm!" Mikelle stammered to even hum his agreement. He resisted the urge to nod and held his chin up rigidly. "I-I'll be-h-h-have! Per-perfectly well! Who..."

He stopped himself from asking his question. He wasn't sure if it was wise to ask any questions of his own, even 'who are you'. He swallowed fearfully.


Zilvra

 

[Zilvra]

"I-I'll be-h-h-have! Per-perfectly well! Who..."

"Good boy," Zilvra replied sweetly, reaching across the carriage and giving Mikelle a rather patronizing pat on the head. "As for who I am... I suppose you can consider me a friend." Poor, spoiled little rich boy. No doubt his parents thought it a kindness to shelter him from the darker truths of the world. But this little lad was a grown man now, and would no doubt take over his parent's business in time... Perhaps sooner rather than later if they didn't get their act together. Time for the lad to receive some education.

"I realise this may not be how you planned to spend your evening, but I am actually doing you a great favor," Zilvra told the boy confidently, without even a hint of sarcasm. "Let me explain... You parents pay taxes, correct? Taxes to the merchant council, to pay for the luxuries that this fair city provides. But there are other forms of taxes that must be paid in the city. Travel taxes to the highwaymen, safe passage to the pirates that patrol the coast. And of course, protection taxes. Arguably, the most important tax of all. For who can sleep soundly in a city like this, without the reassurance that those with their best interests at heart are watching over them and protecting them from all the evils of this corrupt and dangerous city? Unfortunately, there are some folk, like your parents, who believe that the city's protection taxes are optional. That they can survive without paying them... Well, my dear, I have come here tonight to save you from your parents bad decisions. I am afraid that your family have been living comfortably in the walls of your estate for so long, that they forget the dangers that the kind souls like me are protecting them from. Thieves, bandits, vampires. And have you heard of the dreaded Wendigo that has been patrolling the streets, searching for helpless, vulnerable souls to consume? Now, I can assure you that your parents are good hearted people, who generally spare no expense to ensure that their family is well protected. I am sure that the late payment is only an innocent mistake on their part. One that shall be rectified very soon. But in the mean time, whilst the tax goes unpaid, I fear that your safety and that of your family cannot be assured. After all, I cannot provide round the clock protection for the entire city whilst I am not being provided with the funds to support this selfless endeavour. And so, graciously, I have decided to take you under my personal protection. To ensure that no unfortunate fate befalls you, until your parents debts are settled." ... And, this was how Zilvra De Valle operated. How very, very generous of her to take little Mikelle under her wing until his parents paid up the taxes they owed her... With interest, of course. No doubt they would be ever so grateful that she personally elected to keep their son safe in these dangerous times. Truly, a kinder and purer soul did not exist in this cold, cruel city.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Good boy.

Mikelle hoped that would at least mean the knife and threats would be put down, but no such luck. The woman, the 'Friend' went on, and established just what sort of deep deep trouble he was actually in. Some part of Mikelle desperately wanted to wail that she was making up stories, that she was wrong or mistaken about the Fallowbridges, but what would that matter? This 'Friend' wanted money.

He hated to admit that maybe there was even some truth in her words. When travelling to and from the estate, he'd heard distant howls. He was always unsure if they were real wolves or highwaymen. Perhaps they really were highwaymen speaking in code, and it wasn't simply luck that Mikelle had never run into them personally. Mikelle breathed out shakily.

"There's.. nothing to worry about th-then...! My parents always pay all they owe. Money is no issue." Mikelle assured. Although he wasn't even sure if he meant to reassure his kidnapper, or just himself. He didn't know when this woman had first tangled his family into her web, but if she demanded more gold, Mikelle was sure they would pay it. They could pay it! So of course they would!

He took another deep breath, trying to compose himself a little despite his troubling situation. "...Wh... What am I to do while.. uh-under your. P-protection...?"


Zilvra

 

[Zilvra]

Mute breathed a sigh of relief at Mikelle's apparent cooperation and lowered the dagger at the boy's throat. Good to know he wouldn't be needing it. Nothing weighed on his conscience like hurting the innocent. But a little scare wouldn't do the man any harm in the long run.

"There's.. nothing to worry about th-then...! My parents always pay all they owe. Money is no issue."

"Wonderful," Zilvra declared pleasantly. "Yes, I am sure you are correct. Your parents are generally very prompt when it comes to paying their debts. Much as I enjoy the company of a charming gentleman like your self, I believe our little visit will be rather brief. In fact, I expect your parents will discover what remains of their unpaid debts, or some alternative form of payment as soon as they discover how very hospitable I have been to their beloved son. A few dozen kegs of their finest vintage, perhaps. I have always been fond of the wine brewed from your family vineyards. Very full-bodied, with some nice herbal notes." Zilvra certainly knew good wine when she tasted it, and she would certainly consider some of the Fallowbridge's best wine as a substitute for coin. After all, with the establishments she had under her control, she would be making a great deal more in the long run.

"...Wh... What am I to do while.. uh-under your. P-protection...?"

"Do?" Zilvra asked curiously. "Oh, absolutely nothing, my dear. You are my guest after all. Simply do your best to relax and enjoy yourself in my company. I am sure the two of us shall be very good friends. After all, you will be the head of your family one day, correct? I'm sure the two of us will be doing business together soon enough." Perhaps even sooner than planned if incidents like this kept occurring. Perhaps Mikelle would be a more susceptible business partner than his father. He certainly feared her enough.

Eventually, the carriage came to a halt in what seemed to be a very quiet, deserted place. "Here we are, your home for the next day or so. I do hope you find it suitably comfortable." Mute once again took a firm hold of Mikelle's arm and guided him out of the carriage. He was not overly forceful, but he also did not remove the bag from Mikelle's head. After all, Zilvra's didn't want the locations of any of her safe houses to be discovered. It wasn't until they were inside that Mute removed the sack from over Mikelle's head, revealing what appeared to be the inside of a quaint little cottage. While clean and furnished, it had the distinct smell of dust in the air, suggesting that the building had been vacant for quite some time and very hastily prepared for this specific occasion.

"Do make yourself at home," Zilvra suggested, gesturing to an extremely comfy looking sofa, complete with multiple cushions. She herself took a seat on a fine leather seat in the corner, crossing her legs and looking across the room at Mikelle with a smile. The other occupants of the room, however, did not look nearly so pleasant. Besides the only door outside, two huge, heavy men stood, clad in leather amour and armed with a blade in each hand. They scowled across the room at Mikelle as if they would love for any excuse to use those blades they were holding. "Do not mind my associates. I assure you, they are hear for your protection. A little less refined than the likes of you and I, perhaps, but good men all the same. I am sure you will get along splendidly, won't you, boys?" The guards did not answer. Only glared across the room at poor little Mikelle, making sure he knew that absolutely no disorder would be tolerated.

"Would you care for some refreshment, my dear?" Zilvra asked in that sickly sweet voice of hers. "Some tea perhaps? Or coffee? I do have some stronger beverages if you would prefer."

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Once the blade was away from his neck, Mikelle's stiff muscles finally eased. If only by a little bit. A small but relieved whimper escaped his lips. Even with the dagger off his throat, Mikelle wasn't keen on moving much nor interrupting his kidnapper while she spoke. He listened quietly and hesitantly nodded when she assumed he'd one day be head of the family. His chin dropping after agreeing. It was mortifying to think that he'd be stuck with this devilish woman looming over his life too.

Her payments weren't small either; A few dozen kegs. Mikelle didn't even leave with that amount when he went on these day-long deliveries. She was a curse on his family and his life that Mikelle didn't know how to cure. For the rest of the carriage ride, Mikelle was miserably silent.

Out of the carriage and guided by a stranger, Mikelle did little more than make quiet grunts or huffs while being moved. It wasn't overly rough, but Mikelle was scared and with each step forward, and each turn taken, Mikelle half-expected for it to be his last. The young Fallowbridge gasped and held his breath the moment the bag was finally taken off his head, only to let out a long exhale when he actually saw the place he was in.

He really expected her to be yanking his leg on comfort, and to be in a moldy awful dungeon. A gilded cage was still a cage, but Mikelle's relief was still blatantly apparent. Even as he gazed at one of the large brutes she had guarding the exit, Mikelle's shoulders were still slackening. Yet as soon as Zilvra spoke up next, and Mikelle stiffened and jerked his head over to look at her. His brows furrowed, finally able to see the scourge of the Fallowbridge family.

She looked comfortable. The way she held herself was exactly how Mikelle expected with the way she spoke, but her appearances was a bit of a surprise. Mikelle had no doubt she could beat him up with ease, but she was still unexpectedly elegant. She was far from the brutishness of her henchmen, but her lovely appearance only made her more haunting to him. With the right attire, she'd fit in at any party his parents hosted--and for all Mikelle knew, she probably had.

With her reassurance that the big guys were there for his protection, she raised a rhetorical question about them getting along with Mikelle. They didn't respond but Mikelle obediently, meekly, nodded. Rather than stay standing between deadly and deadlier, Mikelle shuffled over to the sofa Zilvra had pointed out a moment ago.

"C-coffee..." Mikelle requested quietly as he took his seat. It felt weird to ask for anything, but he sputtered out a justification for himself directly thereafter; "I don't think I'll be sleeping t-tonight..."

As he spoke, his brown eyes were on his captor, watching her like a frightened cat watches a large cur. He was more worried about what she'd say or do next than any of her lackeys.


Zilvra

 

[Zilvra]

"C-coffee..." Mikelle requested quietly as he took his seat. It felt weird to ask for anything, but he sputtered out a justification for himself directly thereafter; "I don't think I'll be sleeping t-tonight..."

"No?" Zilvra asked, with a false sense of concern. "I do apologise. Of course, I understand that a gentleman of such a noble and prestigious house is used to the comforts and luxuries of his own home. No doubt my humble accommodations are some what lacking in comparison, but I hope you appreciate that I did the best I could on short notice." ... Of course. Because the mattress not being quite comfy enough would be the reason he didn't get any sleep that night.

"Mute, dear, could you please fetch us two cups of coffee for myself and our esteemed guest? Black for me, please. And yourself, Master Fallowbridge? Milk, sugar?" Her demeanor remained constantly that of the charming hostess, never once acknowledging that she had just kidnapped the poor boy in order to exploit money from his parents.

Suddenly there doors to the cottage flew open. The guards immediately drew their blades, ready to strike, but resheathed them once more when the recognised the scrawny red headed lad as one of their own.

"Hey, boss!" the boy declared loudly when his eyes finally landed on Zilvra. "Been looking for ya everywhere! We got trouble down at the docks! The opium deal went south an' now three of the Undertaker's boys are dead! Scrapper took a knife in the side and Swifty's done a runner. I threw some junk over the bodies best I could, but it ain't gonna 'ide 'em fer long. We need summin' ta haul 'em out o' there before the guards show up."

While Zilvra listened intently to everything the boy told her, she also shot him a rather cold stare that suggested this was not the place for this discussion. "Urchin, dear, don't you know it's rude to talk business in front of guests?" she asked him sharply.

"Oh bugger," the boy replied quickly when he realised his mistake. "Sorry, Boss. My bad."

"No matter," Zilvra replied dismissively as she rose from her seat before turning back to Mikelle. "My dear, I must postpone out little chat for now. I have some urgent business to attend to, you understand? I'm sure we can continue our discussion later. Urchin, do keep our guest company for me until I return," the woman instructed the boy before leaving the building, Mute following close behind. Poor Mikelle was left alone in the cottage with two rather intimidating looking guards at the door and a rather confused red headed lad who looked like he had no idea what he was doing.

"Oh... Uh... Okay..." Urchin muttered, without so much as time to react before Zilvra left. He assumed he would be assisting with clean up duty. Instead it looked like he was... Baby sitting a prisoner? ... Oh well. He couldn't complain. This place looked nice and cosy. And all he had to do was keep the guy distracted so he didn't get any foolish escape plans in his head. He could do that! "Hi, I'm Urchin!" the boy introduced himself pleasantly. "So... You dun look no worse for ware," the lad noted, looking the man up and down and not seeing a single cut or bruise on his body. "What you do?"

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

How did Mikelle want his coffee?! He stared at Zilvra for a moment before his eyes slowly drifted to Mute. He definitely felt odd making an order of any sort in this situation, especially to someone like Mute. Wasn't this the guy that pulled him out of the carriage? That meant he must have also been the one to hold a dagger to his neck, right...? Mikelle was unsettled, and he wasn't hiding that fact when he gazed at Mute. He opened his mouth to answer.

"However you--" Before Mikelle could finish, the doors barreled open and one more bit of riffraff stormed in. Startled, Mikelle jumped in his seat and he closed his mouth tightly. He merely watched as things unfolded. As this new person--Urchin--gave his boss some bad news.

Some part of Mikelle was relieved that something else in their shady lives were happening. Mikelle was spared having Zilvra there all night, watching him with her piercing gaze while speaking ghoulishly sweet things about the Fallowbridges and other tidbits Mikelle probably didn't want to hear about. He was sure she'd be back but Mikelle would savor what breathing space he'd be given.

When she announced her departure Mikelle nodded to her with a stifled "mm-mhm!" He was biting his lip shut, trying to hide away his feelings lest she point them out, or lash out. He didn't know what Zilvra was capable of and really didn't want to find out.

Once she finally left, Mikelle's lips parted and he immediately let out another long sigh. Urchin was an upgrade already. He sounded harmless with the way he reluctantly agreed to the new job given to him. To be frank, Urchin only seemed like one of his classmates back when he was a teenager. Scrappier, sure, but the same threat level of two-out-of-ten.

At the offer of his name and kind-enough introduction, Mikelle instinctively started by saying "it's nice to..." Mikelle trailed off. No, it wasn't actually nice to meet him. Mikelle offered a small smile before responding properly.

"I'm Mikelle. And no, not hurt. I think that's. Part of the arrangement with your... Boss. Apparently my family owes her money." Mikelle couldn't help but laugh nervously. He knew it meant he'd be in hot water if his parents pissed that lady off.

With Mute and Zilvra gone, Mikelle stood back up again. He didn't feel comfortable on the couch anyways, and now he didn't feel pinned between quite so many deadly people. He took Urchin for something else entirely.

"Are you the courier for this uhm.. whatever this..." Mikelle spun one hand in a circle, unsure of the gang's name, or even it's leader's name. What was the politest way to describe this?

"This, let's say, business is?"

Urchin

 

[Urchin]

"I'm Mikelle. And no, not hurt. I think that's. Part of the arrangement with your... Boss. Apparently my family owes her money."

"Oh, okay!" Urchin declared as if all of this was a completely normal situation. "You should be fine then. Zilvra dun usually 'urt folks for summin' their family did. Reckon she just took ya to scare 'em a little, that's all. They'll pay up real quick soon as they realize yer missin'. Will probably all be sorted an' you'll be 'ome by tomorrow mornin'. Dun worry yerself none." Urchin tried to reassure the poor man, as if this weren't the single most terrifying experience of his life.

Taking advantage of this nice little break while he could, Urchin headed over to the leather chair and dove into it. Resting his head on one of the arm rests and dangling his legs over the other. "Hey, yer parents ain't in no trouble financial like, are they?" he asked curiously. "I mean, ain't the end o' the world if they is. Boss ain't gonna break yer kneecaps fer summin' ya folks did. Ya stay might be a little longer though. 'Ope ya ain't got no important plans we're interruptin' or nuthin'." As if Mikelle had the foresight to squeeze getting kidnapped into his schedule for the week. Poor little guy. Hopefully his parents weren't broke. It was unlikely Mikelle would get hurt either way, but if Zilvra thought that his parents had outlived their usefulness... Well, he didn't want to say anything that might scare the guy.

"Are you the courier for this uhm.. whatever this..."

"Courier?" Urchin asked, not 100% certain of the word's meaning. "That like a messenger boy or summin'? Yeah, I guess. More like an errand boy, really. Got loads o' little jobs what I do. Ain't so bad. Usually things go smooth an' ain't no trouble. Not like tonight. That were a real shitstorm." Poor lad had been abandoned when the blood started flowing and had to clean up all the mess himself. Not fair. He didn't like having to deal with dead people. It was scary!

"Well, should make the most outta it, I reckon," Urchin suggested. "Think of it as a free 'oliday. This place ain't so bad. Nice an' cushy. Ya want summin' ta eat. Ain't sure what they got, but reckon I can find some cheese an' crackers or summin'. 'Ey, Brute, Roughneck, ya want anythin'?" he asked, directing his question to the two guards.

The men's expressions didn't change, but now their glares were directed at Urchin. "Did we give you permission to share our names, runt?" One of them asked, coldly.

"Yeesh, sorry," Urchin replied sarcastically. It wasn't like Brute and Roughneck were their real names after all. None of Zilvra's crew used their real names. Zilvra didn't allow it. Names had power, she said. To share your name with someone was to give them a piece of yourself. A piece that could be used against you. Urchin wasn't sure exactly what she meant, but he followed her little rule all the same.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Somehow Urchin's nonchalant attitude about all of this was actually a bit reassuring. Zilvra's sweet demeanor felt mocking and spine-shivering, but Mikelle felt very confident that Urchin was genuine. What that meant was that, for better or for worse, Urchin had seen many people kidnapped by Zilvra and had a good idea what to expect for Mikelle. This noble was willing to hold out hope where he could get it.

That being said, at Urchin's questioning about his parents wealth, Mikelle only half-heartedly nodded yes. The Fallowbridges were rich. The Fallowbridges were successful. They were modest folk who came to riches generations ago by hard work and ingenuity; no magical bells-and-whistles; a stable foundation to last centuries, or that's how Mikelle's parents had always told him. The presence of Zilvra in their lives, owed money or not, meant his parents had lied about something huge to him.

Who knows what else they were hiding from him...?

Anxiety gripped his heart while he mentally counted the recent faces of the estate's help in his head; were there less of them working in the past few months? Did his parents have to lay off some of their maids? It was hard to remember, especially right now. He was fine pushing the worries aside again in favor of talking with Urchin.

Urchin wasn't actually a serial killer or anything. Just an odd-job guy. And seemingly got along with people easily. Mikelle's brows raised when Urchin offered to get the brutes--erm, Brute and Roughneck, something to eat. Mikelle had to turn to them in expectation of their response. In the end, Mikelle chuckled earnestly.

"Call names mean little without a last name or at least a famed title...!" Mikelle insisted lightly. He assumed it didn't mean much but Mikelle definitely didn't want to make the big guards with swords feel threatened by the concept of this nobleman knowing their names. He did not want to be stabbed.

"But anyway, I think we could have some, um, fun with getting snacks. If. If that's okay? It-it could kill some time for us all, I think." Mikelle seemed unsure what would or wouldn't be allowed by Brute or Roughneck.

He glanced at the two before stepping back over to the couch he had been sitting on. There, Mikelle went to the end table next to it where a squat table clock sat. Mikelle picked up the clock.

He then stepped between the guards and Urchin and stood so that they both could see exactly what he was doing. He reached into his bag and pulled out his recently bought quill, as well as his pad of paper.

From there, he worked quick; this was something he had done before. He turned the clock to give himself a broad flat surface to work with. He held the quill in his mouth for just long enough to pluck a piece of paper free and place it on the back of the clock. Once his quill was back in his hands, he swiftly drew out a rune--an enchantment--on the piece of paper.

Half a second later and the paper was gone. It was as if it melded into the clock. As quickly as it was gone, the clock creaked a little. Unnaturally. It's little stubby wooden legs now moved like the lively paws of an animal. The wood of its whole makeup curved a little as it arched in Mikelle's hands, eager for the gentle petting that Mikelle now gave it.

The clock was alive.

Mikelle placed it on the ground and pushed its bum in the direction of Urchin.

"It--it can take one command at a time, but it doesn't have to be from me. I imagine you'd all prefer if one of you told it what to do. Just make sure to say it's name, and then you can tell it to go fetch... crackers and cheese, if-if you like."

As he spoke, Mikelle was clearly nervous. Smiling, always happy to do a little magic, but still very nervous. He was guessing there was a good chance that Brute and Roughneck would destroy the abomination on the spot. Mikelle felt like he had to insist it's helplessness before there was a chance of him getting into trouble.

"But it only has about ten or fifteen minutes! They um.. They always get a little too self-aware at that point and get depressed after that... Idon'treallyknowhowtofixthatso..."


Urchin

 

[Urchin]

"Call names mean little without a last name or at least a famed title...!"

The two guards continued to glare at Mikelle, one even giving a little growl at his statement. He may have meant to reassure them. Instead what he'd done was demonstrate by talking to them so casually that he didn't fear the pair of them the way that he feared Zilvra. The guards didn't like that... It hurt their fragile egos.

"But anyway, I think we could have some, um, fun with getting snacks. If. If that's okay? It-it could kill some time for us all, I think."

"Yeah, we can 'ave fun! I'll 'ave a raid through the kitchen. I know that the Boss lady sometimes 'as these little squishy sweets what they make with sugar an' honey an' mallow sap. They're real sweet, an' ya can toast 'em over a fireplace an' they go all gooey!" Perhaps he might be pushing his luck a bit by stealing the bosses mallow sweets, but she had asked the boy to keep the guest entertained why she was away. What could be more entertaining than toasting mallow sweets?

It seemed though that Mikelle had a different kind of fun in mind. Urchin leant over the man's shoulder curiously, while the two guards eyed him suspiciously. What the hell was he doing? When the piece of paper disappeared though, the two guards instinctively went for their blades. Magic! The prisoner was trying to escape! ... But they slowly eased their grips as the strange creation of Mikelle's suddenly came to life. They had no idea what was going on, but it seemed that this wasn't an escape attempt after all.

"The hell is that?" Urchin asked, eyes going wide with both shock and delight. "Is that... A dog? ... Did ya just turn that clock inta a fuckin' dog?" Urchin had always been fascinated by magic of every kind, but this particular magic had grasped his fascination and amazement like no previous magic ever had. The power to turn objects into pets!!!

"Can I pet it?" he asked excitedly, not waiting for an answer before reaching over and stroking the little clock dog. Obviously, it still felt like a clock, but the reaction it gave was exactly one of a contended little doggy. "Sweet Gods above, this is the most amazin' thing I ever seen!" The two guards, on the other hand, did not look nearly so impressed. They watched the strange contraption with raised eyebrows of confusion, having absolutely no idea what to make of it.

"It--it can take one command at a time, but it doesn't have to be from me. I imagine you'd all prefer if one of you told it what to do. Just make sure to say it's name, and then you can tell it to go fetch... crackers and cheese, if-if you like."

"Uh... Okay!" Urchin declared before turning excitedly back to his new little friend. "Clock, go fetch mallow sweets," he instructed it... Hopefully the clock's name was Clock, or else his order would probably be ignored.

"But it only has about ten or fifteen minutes! They um.. They always get a little too self-aware at that point and get depressed after that... Idon'treallyknowhowtofixthatso..."

"Wait, they what?" Urchin asked, sounding less than happy about this revelation. That had to be the saddest thing that Urchin ever heard! "But... why would it get depressed? Shouldn't the little clock be happy that it's alive? What if we're real nice ta it? Ya think that might 'elp it not get all depressed?" he wanted to keep the little clock as a pet forever!

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Mikelle heaved an audible "wew," when Roughneck and Brute didn't promptly kick his ass for the magic he created. He knew he wasn't on their good side. Now, he could focus instead on the good side of the situation.

Exhausted by his emotions, Mikelle sat himself down on the floor and crossed his legs. Hands gripping his boots for comfort while he watched Urchin praise and pet the clock. Mikelle was content like that. His brow only twitched once when his creation was called a dog, but the kidnap victim wasn't about to correct one of his captors.

The clock responded well to Urchin's affection. It was an exceptionally friendly clock. Once the command was given, the clock trotted away from Urchin and went right for the door. It pawed at the exit to be let out.

Mikelle watched the little pet as it went to the door, smiling and enjoying it's liveliness, before Urchin's disappointment caught his attention. Mikelle looked to him and tilted his head to the side while giving a shrug.

"You can try, but I've never had such luck with it... Some of them mope around until they go completely brittle while others try to off themselves if I don't break their enchantment." Mikelle rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I think there's something wrong in the spell itself, but I don't know what... I made the spell myself, I didn't really have anyone to ask about fixing it. Believe me, if I could have a pet journal that lasted forever, I'd sure have one right now!"



Urchin

 

[Urchin]

When the walking clock started scratching at the kitchen door, Urchin rushed straight over to open the door and let the strange little creature in, following it and watching it's every move in awe. The two guards, while still trying to maintain the uninterested tough guy act were admittedly rather impressed by the strange little contraption, and so decided not to smash it into pieces for now.

"It's tryin' ta get inta the cupboard!" Urchin called from the kitchen. After opening the cupboard door, he was then delighted to watch as the clock creature walked into the cupboard and emerged with a tiny paper bag of mallow sweets. "'Ow the fuck did 'e know they was in there?" he wondered aloud as he followed the clock-dog back into the living room.

"You can try, but I've never had such luck with it... Some of them mope around until they go completely brittle while others try to off themselves if I don't break their enchantment."

Now that had to be the saddest thing that Urchin had ever heard. "Ya mean the little clock's gonna go suicidal?" he asked, horrified. "Jump off the mantlepiece until it's a mangled mess o' glass, springs an' splinters? That's 'orrible! Poor little thing! Why would ya wanna do that?" he asked the little clock as he gently patted it on the head... Well, the top of the clock anyway. Urchin assumed that was the head.

"We gotta save it," Urchin decided, though he had no idea how to go about the task. "Maybe we can make it real 'appy... If you was a clock, what kinds stuff do ya think you'd like?" They couldn't eat after all. Or sleep presumably. What the fuck would an animate clock want? ... Time? Well time wasn't exactly something that anyone could give. It just sort of... Was.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Mikelle stayed put where he was on the floor. He watched Urchin and the clock go, smiling as Urchin gave announcements about what the clock was doing next. Mikelle chuckled a little while listening. The animated objects always got Mikelle's mind off things. It was hard to think about anything else when you had a walking clock pitter-pattering around.

At no point did Mikelle try explaining how the clock knew this or that--or how it knew their language even. Anything Mikelle hypothesized about it was just that; a hypothesis.

The clock dawdled back in with what was requested; a bag of treats. At the touch of a hand on its 'head', the clock momentarily lifted its two front legs up in order to press into the hand petting it.

At the questions of what clocks would like, Mikelle answered slowly. "I'm not sure.. If I was a clock, I'd want to do clock things, wouldn't I? But that's just sitting still and telling the time."

Mikelle then hummed and rested his elbows on his knees in order to cup his cheeks in both hands. His posture leaning forward, eyes on their little clock companion. He felt defeated on solving this himself, but with Urchin's insistence, Mikelle felt a small spark of hope. This was the first time he really got to talk about it with anyone. Maybe the new perspective was just what these living objects needed?

"I, um, tried giving a candle cream once. I heard fairies like cream, but of course a candle wouldn't." Mikelle then inquired, "what do magical things actually need?"

Mikelle shifted his cheek to mostly sit in one hand in order to meekly glance at Roughneck and Brute. They were probably the most worldly of the three here, right? Mikelle was still worried about pissing them off, or even just getting the same old cold stare as before, but the clock only had about ten minutes left. If Mikelle didn't want to explain to that devilish woman and Mute why Urchin was heartbroken about a broken clock, then Mikelle ought to try every option he had.

His lips tipped up, hesitating to ask at first before he finally pushed out his question. "Have--have you ever met a magical creature...?"


Urchin

 

[Urchin]

"I'm not sure.. If I was a clock, I'd want to do clock things, wouldn't I? But that's just sitting still and telling the time."

"Okay," the lad declared before leaning down to talk to his little clock friend. "Clock, what time is it?" he asked... Though he doubted the clock could talk. Still, it could always show them the time on it's little hands, right?

"Have--have you ever met a magical creature...?"

The two guards both continued to glare at Mikelle, their one and only facial expression. The little man was hurting their feelings by not being sufficiently intimidated by them! "Do we look like we spend our free time chasing pixies and leprechauns?" one of them asked irritably, but Urchin quickly cut the man off.

"I 'ave! I 'ave!" he insisted adamantly. "Met a real life unicorn once, God's honest truth!" One of the guards gave an audible groan when he heard this statement. Apparently he had heard the story of Urchin's unicorn friend once before, and was more than a little sceptic about the whole thing. "We were askin' each other riddles, an' the first prize 'e wanted for winnin' were a lock of my 'air. Absolutely no idea why 'e wanted it, but it's what 'e asked for." Urchin than plucked one of his many red hairs out of his head and held it out towards the little clock creature. "'Ere ya go, little clock. Ya want some o' my 'air?" he asked hopefully.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Unsurprisingly, the guards didn't have a warm response. Mikelle tried not to frown too disappointedly but his ears felt warm after getting that kind of dry answer, the noble was embarrassed to have asked anything at all. Yet as quickly as the feeling washed over him, Urchin piped up with a claim that pushed all other thoughts out of his head.

This kid.. This kid had met a unicorn? And what, they simply passed riddles? Unicorns talked??

Mikelle stared at Urchin with his mouth slightly agape, stunned. He didn't say anything before Urchin had decided his hair might be the solution and offered a little bit to the clock. Once offered, the clock opened its face and grabbed the strand of hair by snapping itself shut again. It tipped back slightly, snapping its face open and closed until the whole red hair had disappeared inside of it.

Nothing seemed to change about their pet clock. There was no grandiose sparkling or angelic sound to give them a sign that anything had changed about the clock, and the clock itself was acting no different from before. It still seemed puppy-like and stayed close to Urchin's side. Mikelle waited a moment before commenting.

"Forgive the pun, but I suppose only time will tell now." Mikelle's tone was mellow and distant. His mind still elsewhere. Soon enough, he flicked his brown eyes over to the red-haired riff-raff.

"So, a unicorn??" Mikelle was more insistent questioning that than the fate of the clock. He scratched his jawline, he was literally itching with curiosity. And a dash of dubiousness; it didn't sound like the guards believe Urchin on this one.

"Where would you have met a unicorn? I wouldn't imagine them wandering into the city like a raccoon would.."


Urchin

 

[Urchin]

Urchin watch, fascinated as the clock seemed to... Eat his hair? "I think it likes it!" he declared enthusiastically. Why exactly magical creatures seemed to like hair, Urchin had no idea, still so long as the little pet clock didn't go suicidal on him, he was happy.

"Where would you have met a unicorn? I wouldn't imagine them wandering into the city like a raccoon would.."

Oh, finally, someone who believed him! "Oh yeah, he were gorgeous! Met 'im in a meadow right by the Allir Forest when I was pickin' mushrooms. Can take ya there one day if ya like, but I been back loads o' times an' I ain't seen 'im since."

"You ever think that maybe those mushrooms might be the reason you saw a unicorn?" One of the guards taunted the boy, causing the other to laugh. They both knew exactly what kind of mushrooms that Urchin was picking.

"But I didn't eat 'em!" Urchin objected. "The unicorn won 'em from me in the game."

"Sure it did, lad. Sure it did," the guard mocked him sarcastically, causing Urchin to pout in annoyance. Well, they might not believe him, but at least his new friend did! Or seemed to at least.

"You wait 'ere with Clock, I'mma go find some sticks ta toast 'em mallows on," Urchin said, heading over to the door where the two guards reluctantly let him pass. When he returned, he had two long, thin sticks with him, one of which he handed to Mikelle and the other he kept for himself, sticking one of the little mallows on the end. "Ya gotta 'old 'em over the fire until the outside gets nice an' golden. Don't 'old 'em there too long though, or they'll start ta melt. Then they'll fall off inta the fire an' ya lose 'em," the boy explained, taking a seat right next to the fireplace and holding his mallow right over the flames.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

If Mikelle was entirely frank, he wasn't sure he actually believed Urchin's story. He believed Urchin believed Urchin, but Roughneck and Brute had raised very good points. There were things you could eat that would alter your memory and make you see things, and it sounded like they pegged Urchin for grabbing those exact kinds of mushrooms. Still, Mikelle offered Urchin an encouraging smile while he spoke. For all he knew, he'd never see Urchin again after tonight, so there'd be no harm in siding with him on this one.

Believing in a unicorn came so close to Alliria was fun anyways.

Urchin left and Mikelle quietly waited. He didn't bother the guards with any more conversation, still embarrassed about what they might say. When Urchin returned and handed him a stick, Mikelle followed him and listened to his instructions.

"I've never had these outside of cookies or coffee before." Mikelle admitted off-handedly as he sat near the fireplace and put the treat out over the flame. He was attentive to Urchin's marshmallow as much as his own, noting how bronzed his marshmallow-mentor would let his get and doing his best to copy him.

"Say, what were you going to do with those mushrooms if the unicorn hadn't--AH!" Mikelle cut off his own words as he noticed his mashmallow melting down his stick. He just didn't have a good grasp of the subtle differences in goldens and browns well enough to know when the inside had gotten too gooey. The halfling pulled it out from the fire and hastily blew on it in an attempt to halt the sticky mess.

At some point between Urchin leaving and returning, the clock had become less lively. Little by little. While Mikelle and Urchin roasted marshmallows, it slowly made its way over to them. Its legs creaked a little louder than before, as if it was harder to move now than previously. It sat itself down next to Urchin and arched its face down to stare at the way the light of the fire danced along the floorboards.


Urchin

 

[Urchin]

"I've never had these outside of cookies or coffee before."

"Wait, ya can 'ave 'em in cookies?" Urchin asked, absolutely fascinated by the idea. "That's genius! Wonder 'ow come I ain't never seen 'em." Probably because it was a very upper class treat sold in establishments in which a ragged, bare-foot boy like himself was unlikely to be welcome.

"Say, what were you going to do with those mushrooms if the unicorn hadn't--AH!"

"Careful, ya dun wanna lose 'em, they're real special!" Urchin insisted as he took his own mallow from the end of his stick and popped it in his mouth. Mmm! Delicious, gooey goodness! "Oh, I were gonna sell 'em. Ya can get a real high offa them, so if ya dry 'em out proper, ya can sell 'em for thirty silver a pop!" Of course, he'd have to try them out first to make sure they were the right kind of mushrooms. Quality control was very important. "Ya ever tried one before? They make ya see weird stuff an' everything goes real colourful an' ya start thinkin' 'bout weird things. Is real fun... Unless ya get the ones what makes spiders come outta yer ears. Them ones ain't no fun."

Well, this was a very pleasant evening. Much more fun than cleaning up dead bodies off the street. He hoped he got put on guard duty more often. He was good at it... So long as the person he was guarding was harmless and terrified and didn't try to escape.

As he placed a second mallow sweet on the tip of his stick, Urchin noticed the little clock had come waddling over to sit by his side. "Hey there, little guy," the lad said happily as he petted the clock on the head. "'Ow ya feelin'? Ya still okay? Want a mallow sweet?" he asked, offering the creature an uncooked mallow, imagining that a gooey one might do the clock some damage.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

At the question of the cookies, Mikelle nodded his head with a nostalgic hum. The cookies were divine, but he felt he didn't even have to mention that. He imagined Urchin's boss maybe had some before, but even if she talked sweetly, he was willing to bet she didn't like to share. Crime lords weren't exactly known for sharing.

Mikelle busied himself instead with trying to catch all of his gooey marshmallow. At the point where Urchin was describing the mushrooms, Mikelle had finally conceded and swiped the goo up with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. He then desperately tried to suck it clean off his finger. At some point he noticed a little bit had dripped onto the knee of his pants. They were delicious, but he could see why he usually had these in cookies; they were such a mess..!

He did find enough time to hastily shake his head at the mention of ever having mushrooms himself. He had never even been drunk before, nevermind trip! With the way Urchin described taking mushrooms, it didn't sound like he'd want to try them anyways. Mikelle was scared of too many things to risk seeing something he'd regret. Besides, they were probably very illegal.

The clock, after being acknowledged, slowly turned its head to Urchin. The wood of it creaked loudly, restrictively. It didn't take interest in the treat, it ignored it. The orange light of the fire bounced off its expressionless face, yet it still somehow was clearly sad. Absolutely crestfallen. The clock rigidly turned away from Urchin again and stared at the floor once more.

"...I don't think they have much time left. I think Clock is going to die from going brittle before anything else." Mikelle pointed out solemnly. "But this is how they all get eventually; terribly sad. I think this one had a pretty nice ten minutes though."

He then looked at Urchin. "I'm sorry, and I can make you another if you like, but it might be good to put Clock out of their misery..."

After speaking, Mikelle inched his stick in his hands. Down to its handle end, and looked over the un-marshmallow-ed side of it. He began rubbing off the loose bits on the wood, readying it to end clock's life with one motion. Just a swipe across the wooden back where the enchantment was placed was usually enough to end the spell.


Urchin

 

[Urchin]

"...I don't think they have much time left. I think Clock is going to die from going brittle before anything else."

"Oh no," Urchin said sadly, gently patting at the little clock to try and cheer it up. Didn't look like it had any effect though. "Ain't there nuthin' what we can do for Clock? Poor little guy. An' ya didn't even get ta eat a mallow." That said, clocks had no mouth with which to eat... In fact, no wonder they all got depressed and died. Finding out that sweets existed and yet being unable to eat them must be a very tragic fate indeed.

"I'm sorry, and I can make you another if you like, but it might be good to put Clock out of their misery..."

"Nah, nah, I don't want no 'nother one. Will just get sad again when the next one dies. Hey, does the spell ever work on the same thing twice? Guess ya could just keep bringin' the same thing back over an' over... Though that'd probably be a pain in the ass if ya had ta do it every ten minutes."

As Mikelle picked up the clock to put it out of it's misery, Urchin leaned over and gave the thing one last pat on the head. "Goodbye Clock. I wun never forget ya," the lad promised before Mikelle undid the spell. After that, Urchin was more than a little melancholy as he looked down on the motionless clock.

"That... weren't really alive, were it?" he asked sadly. "I mean it weren't a proper livin' thing, like a cat or a puppy or summin'? So it ain't like it really died, right?" Urchin was just trying to reassure himself more than anything. After all, how sad would it be if he'd actually witnessed the death of a puppy? Strange, he'd witnessed a few human deaths in his lifetime, but when animals were involved, it was somehow so much sadder. Maybe because he knew just how awful humans could be. Animals just seemed so much purer in comparison.

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

At the question of enchanting the same object twice, Mikelle made a wavering "ehn," and wobbled one hand side to side before picking up the clock. He sat it on his lap and let Urchin give it one last pat before he dragged the end of the stick down the clock's back. It chipped the tiniest bit of the wood in the process, a teensy bit that one might not even normally notice, but it made all the difference to the spell. The subtle movements of the living, depressed clock stopped and went dead still. The clock remained in its slumped sitting position, like a piece of art intentionally molded to look that way.

As Mikelle put the clock down on the floor, he pondered if the boss would be upset about this. He never thought too hard about the price of items like these, and he hoped the devilish woman would feel the same. Or else, Mikelle supposed, his family might owe her one more bottle of wine.

"Oh, I think they're well and truly alive." Mikelle answered with a nod. His tone was soft but Mikelle didn't seem nearly as sad as Urchin. "I'd like them to live longer, and I've sometimes been able to redo the spell on the same object, but it's kind of.. inconsistent. But still," Mikelle patted a hand on his own knee before reaching for another marshmallow to roast.

"I think it's better to think about how the clock at least got to live for a short while instead of not at all. Clock had some fun, even if just for a short time then."


Urchin

 

[Urchin]

"Oh, I think they're well and truly alive."

"Oh..." Urchin said sadly. So, the little clock had actually died. Well, now he felt guilty. He wished he'd spent the whole ten minutes playing with it instead of toasting mallows. Well, too late to do anything about it now. "Well... Rest in peace little clock," the lad said as he picked the slumped over clock back up and placed it back on the mantlepiece. As for how Zilvra would feel, she would probably notice that there was something wrong with the clock, but luckily it's value wasn't high enough for her to care about it. She'd probably just discard the old clock and replace it with a new one... Or, if it still worked, keep it as a rather unique art piece.

"I think it's better to think about how the clock at least got to live for a short while instead of not at all. Clock had some fun, even if just for a short time then."

"Yeah, I guess," Urchin said, though still sounding slightly sad about losing his little clock friend. "S'pose they couldn't really live long anyway though. I mean, they can't eat or drink or nuthin' what all the other animals do. Guess they'd just starve ta death in the end. Wonder if there's a way ta fix the spell. Ya know, make it so that they dun die... But then, I dun know nuthin' 'bout magic, so I ain't go no idea 'ow all that works."

Not really feeling like waiting for another mallow to toast, he simply took an untoasted mallow from the bag and popped it into his mouth. Yum! Sweet nectary goodness! "So, what ya wanna do now?" Urchin asked, laying down on the floor with his chin rested on his hands. "Ain't really nuthin' ta do till the Boss Lady gets back... We could play a game or summin'! I like games!"

 

[Mikelle Fallowbridge]

Mikelle watched as Urchin set the clock back to where it belonged. At the mention of improvement to the spell, Mikelle immediately nodded but he wore a bittersweet smile. He wanted to improve, but, frankly, he didn't think he knew too much more about magic than Urchin; sure he learned the symbols but the functionality of it all was unknown to the nobleman. He hoped that he could figure out improving the spell someday too.

Remaining quiet for a while longer, Mikelle focused on his marshmallow. The second one he had managed to roast the right amount and popped into his mouth when it was nicely golden-brown. It was delicious! Like freshly baked cookies! Sort of. He liked it.

"Mmm?" Mikelle raised a brow at Urchin. He swallowed before answering, "um, I wouldn't know what games we've got here, so, did you have a game in mind?"


Urchin