Open Chronicles The Harvest Tribute

[Elijah]

Dornoch, The Erdeniin Dynasty
​

The Harvest Tribute was a month of celebrations in Dornoch, the Crowning Jewel of the Erdeniin Dynasty. From the first turn of colour in the leaves until the first leaf fall, people from the Tribute states journeyed to their Capital in order to offer gifts of gold, precious stones, livestock, clothes and more to the Dynast. The large caravans of people could be seen like tiny trails of ants from the sky where the Pegasi patrolled in order to provide aerial security to their citizens who had covered, in main cases, large swathes of the great Steppes to visit the city. With them came more than just goods. Livestock, children, artists and performers all joined the main wagon of goods. It meant the going was slow but it would be done no other way. What was also striking was the different races that made up these caravans. The Erdeniin Dynasty prided itself on its multicultural nature and insisted the strength of its history rested on that special bond. So alongside human wagons pulled by shaggy ponies came the Centaurs with their sledges, the Orcs with their great wild boars, and Trolls by night to avoid the nasty sunlight.

Once at the city walls they were ushered in by stern looking guards in colourful plate and silks, the rearing Pegasus that was the emblem of the Erdeniin Dynasty stood pride of place on moth metal and fabric uniforms. Despite their stern expressions their words were welcoming to both citizens and outsiders, patient in answering questions of this weary traveller or with that wailing child.

Once inside the city seemed to simply heave at the seams with how many people were crammed into it, and yet somehow nobody seemed to mind. Beautiful smells filled the air; food mixed with perfumes and other scents that lured people in different directions to the markets that were in full steam throughout the city.

Elijah, Captain of the Pegasi, the special Royal Guard dedicated to the protection of the Dynast and her Heirs, watched all of this with bored familiarity. The festival happened biannually and as a guard it was a stressful time. Too many new people, too many unknowns and possible dangers lurking in shadows. Not that anything had happened in the city for the last hundred years on a day like today. Dornoch's punishments for theft, damage to goods and assault were ruthless and dark. None of the guards that patrolled below would hesitate to remove a hand for such an offence or even a head.

People knew the laws when they arrived and if they did not, well they found out soon enough.

The royal guard shifted in his saddle and then patted Gypsy's neck in a slow, affectionate rub. The silent signal for down. The white pegasus spread her wings and took to the skies once more to do another sweep of the city.

 

[Volker]

In chaos there was opportunity.

Volker headed into the city with the same disinterested look he had about everything. Volker wasn’t interested in the festival, but he was interested in his job, and someone did not want this festival to go smoothly. His father Klaus had specialized in chaos and fear. While Volker was a more methodical killer, his late father was practically vibrating for him to live up to the name.

The inns were packed to the gills with domestics and foreigners alike, but Volker needed no such accommodations. He enjoyed disappearing among the homeless and those who inhabited slums. People who would be encouraged to hide themselves in light of the celebration. It provided good and quiet spots for him to do his work and leave clues in the shadows.

If the goal was to cause fear here, he could do that.

Volker knew the guards were swift and ruthless to thieves. They had an advantage from the air. But such cruelty, removing hands and heads for stealing, could be used against them. Planting a stolen item here, and letting angry merchants and heavy handed guards do the rest. Whispers would spread. The dead or maimed man was innocent. No one had seen him take it!

There was a strength in that quiet, brewing chaos. Chaos that made foreigners suspicious of each other. Chaos that made domestics fear foreigners. Volker would ramp up a bit of the chaos, but for now he snatched a lost tourist by the throat for his own dinner. He would not dare steal. But who was to deny him the right to hunt?

 

[Ichika]

In her youth the Harvest Tribute was a joyous occasion. Street vendors sold foods such as eomuk, a traditional fish cake, or various types of dumplings. Other children her age would light sparklers, paint their faces, or take part in the various games scattered throughout every corner of the city.

But she was a child no longer.

It had been almost four months since she was appointed as head of the distribution of goods from the port. This, primarily, was to ensure the steady flow of seafood and agriculture both domestically and abroad. There were other trade goods that those working for her were responsible for and while they were important to the economic success of the empire it was the food that remained their primary focus. Erdeniin could survive a year with lowered profits but thousands would starve if the supply of sustenance was impeded.

And the Harvest Tribute was a pivotal moment for Dornoch. A celebration of the hard work of the various fishers and farmers throughout the empire. It allowed the humans, centaurs, orcs, and trolls to all gather together and rejoice in the openness without their civilization. A sight that was beautiful to behold for those from less tolerant parts of Arethil but to the citizens of Erdeniin it was a source of pride that species didn't matter. They were all as one unit which strived to work in cooperation with one another.

"The crates need to be moved closer Jonas," she said to the burly orc who had served as the foreman for her family for years.

He grunted but continued on with his work as a pegasus flew overhead. Ichika Tsuri had to try and hide it but it was difficult for her. She was stressed. The panic and chaos of the festival was doing her nerves absolutely no favors.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

"I ain't gettin my hands cut off," said Hillby, the bumpkin.

"Nobody's gettin their hands cut off," said Mack. (Short for McEnany, that one).

"Somebody might get their hands cut off," said Padre, always dour.

"You'll only get your hands cut off if you're dumb," said Darla, nose-deep in the map she held.

Majister walked--hands folded behind his back--with his delightful band of raiders toward the gate of the Outer Wall of Dornoch. Ah, but was truly fair to describe them as such? Delightful, yes, Majister was feeling generous today, but raiders? Here? Why, was that not the whole reason they had come this way? Naturally they had to leave their chosen professions behind in the Allir Reach! Along with perhaps the broken dreams and sunken hearts of a few well-to-do merchant figures who had the most impeccable timing with their caravans to enrich the intrepid pockets of Majister and his band. But wouldn't you know it, the pesky cost in the business of roadside negotiations was that all of one's newly acquired goods were best taken elsewhere. Somewhere conveniently elsewhere like Dornoch, suggested by the lovely Darla herself, that just so happened to be close to a Portal Stone. Oh yes, and throwing some manner of festival. Gorgeous! A splendid opportunity to blend in with the crowd and turn their wagonload of goods into easily spendable coin.

"Why not share with us some of the magnificent things we can come to expect from our visit to Dornoch, oh Darla? Other than the endearing tendency to sever extremities," Majister said, walking at the head of the group without looking back.

She looked up from her map. "Aren't you from Elbion? From a noble family? Didn't you learn about Dornoch? The Dynasty? You share a lot of the same seaborne trade routes."

Majister kept walking and kept smirking. "How did you guess that I never paid any attention to the inane ramblings of my teachers and tutors? Ha, ha, you know me too well!"

Darla groaned. Krull the orc, driving the wagon of ill-gotten goods (and likely halfway finished with a vision quest, what with that foul-smelling plant he so loved to smoke), told Darla to keep it moving, keep it moving.

"Alright," said Darla. "The primary language of Dornoch isn't actually Common, it's called Uytani. See the Outer Wall there? In that tongue it's called Tsagaan Khana, and the next--"

"It's called what Khana?" said Mack.

"She said Tsa-Gaan-Kaa-Naa, numbnuts," said Hillby, pronouncing said as say-yed.

"That's a beautiful language," said Krull from the wagon.

"Not the way Hillby said it," said Padre, grumbling.

"You shut yer damn mouth." Day-um for damn. Ah, never change, Hillby. Not that Majister was particularly concerned about that, but the sentiment was the same.

Majister kept walking, listening to the banter behind him. "Continue, my dear Darla."

Slightly annoyed, she nevertheless did. "Well, something all of you might find surprising, is that Dornoch and the ruling Erdeniin Dynasty is a matrilineal line, something you don't typically see outside of drow--"

"Matrilineal? You mean women?" said Mack.

"That what that word mean?" said Hillby, learning something new everyday.

"Damn, I knew this was a good idea," said Mack.

"You said you'd eat your boot if Dornoch was worth a damn," said Padre, accusingly.

"I'd actually like to see that," said Krull.

"Hey, everybody's entitled to one good solid fuck-up," said Mack. Then added, "A day."

Darla, more annoyed, said, "Do you morons want to hear any of this or not?"

Majister (oh how he was loving this) prompted her to continue by saying, "Once more into the fray, my dear Darla! Carry on!"

Darla sighed. Looked back to her map and the small informational sidebar. Said, "Alright. Dornoch is very cosmopolitan. More than just humans, elves, orcs, and dwarves, there are also centaurs, minotaurs, trolls--"

"My grandpappy said he once fucked a troll," said Hillby.

Darla made a face of absolute disgust.

"He did not," said Mack, incredulous.

"I bet it was two," said Padre flatly.

"Fine!" Darla said. "If you idiots won't shut up, I'll keep all the juicy little secrets about Dornoch to myself."

They went back and forth amongst each other, Majister and his band. Together they were ten in total, and they were all as unassuming as any other wagon or group of "adventurers" approaching the Jewel of the Dynast, the Gem of the Steppe, Dornoch itself. The plan was simple: sell the goods, enjoy the spoils of someone else's labor--those aforementioned well-to-do merchant figures specifically, haha!

Majister and his band were approaching the gate, filing in with the foot traffic coming for the Harvest Tribute.

Elijah Volker Ichika

 

[Elijah]

It was far more peaceful in the skies than it would be down below, but down they went despite his growing discomfort. The Guard life had been one he had chosen out of pride; being one of the few men only added to that, but the reason he had climbed so high, the reason he had pushed himself so hard to be better, now lay buried beneath a tree beyond the walled city. Samantha had always loved the Festivals and had often joked with him about what it might be like to join one of the caravans and see beyond the walls. Eli had never understood the notion himself; they saw plenty of it in times of war, enough that he was always loathe to leave the walled city, but Samantha had simply given him a tiny secret smile and shaken her head.

She had been his dreamer.

With melancholy an old unwanted friend in his heart Gypsy touched down in one of the squares with a flourish of her wings. Several people gave murmured noises of excitement, casting their eyes around for the Royal which must be nearby, and a few of the children went as though to touch the mare before being pulled away by parents. For the most part Elijah continued to ignore them all and focus on his duty. His eyes scanned the crowds beneath a hooded, stern brown. His icy eyes deterring the softer would-be criminals with one hard look.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Lines.

Oh, specifically the line to get inside the city proper. Was it not a marvel of exquisite timing? Indeed! Why, circumstances conspired as such to ensure that a full hour had been spent waiting and inching forward. But it was not all lost time, no no, quite the contrary. While his esteemed comrades continued to further engage in team cohesion via sharpened banter, Majister had the splendid opportunity to plan out their course of action once in the city. Despite what he had said to the lovely Darla about turning a deaf ear to his teachers and tutors, that was--as Majister liked to call it--a fanciful lie; his ear wasn't deaf, but it was terribly bored at the time, yet that was beside the point. He knew what he and the Mejeure family of Elbion needed to know, and one of the principal things that anyone with a sizeable hoard of wealth was concerned with was--oh yes, you guessed it--taxes.

Could they make more coin selling their acquired merchandise here in Dornoch during this lovely festival than elsewhere in some smaller town or village? Absolutely. Would taxes ruin this plan? A game of numbers and percentages, was it not? Couldn't he simply go to the black market? Certainly, but Dornoch was a new location for him, and vetting fences took time, precious time, my dear. Well then, was there a way around these taxes imposed by the ruling authority of this grand city? As it so happened, there was: tribute. Hmm. Now, now, hold your exclamations of Marvelous! because here we are again back at the game of numbers and percentages. The true question then. Was paying the tribute going to ultimately cost less than enduring the taxes?

Now that was something to be seen! Because in the end, wouldn't it be just an unbearable tragedy if the fruits of the hard work of those well-to-do merchants went more into the pockets of the Dynast than into the pockets of Majister and his raiders?

"Finally," Padre said once they, fittingly enough, finally had gotten through the gates after the guards went through their inspection.

"I thought that guy was gonna check inside my asshole," remarked Mack.

"You guys see that shit? Half-man, half-horse. How the fuck did that happen?" said Hillby, who had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the centaurs just behind them going through the process at the gate.

Majister turned about and clapped his hands together.

"Stop the wagon, Krull my good man, if you would be so kind," he said, and the orc did. His raiders loosely gathered 'round and listened up. "Welcome to Dornoch, gentlemen." He waited just long enough for Darla to clear her throat in an agitated manner, then added with a satisfied smirk, "And lady. Before we each set about on our merry ways to do business in this grand city, two points of order: One, spare me a moment to perhaps secure for us a certain tax waiver! As my treat to you for a splendid performance, the cost incurred for this waiver shall come solely from my share of the goods! Enjoy!"

His raiders all smiled and grinned and nodded. Hillby and Mack clasped hands and gave each other knowing looks about their future excursions with the local ladies of the night, Krull no doubt imagining how high he was going to get with other "spiritually"-minded people, Darla with the glittering prospect of buying a few more maps and trinkets and mysterious curios, the others with their particular inclinations and vices.

"First that," said Majister. "Second, we will choose an inn in which to stay and rendezvous for our leisurely duration in Dornoch, and then your fun is all yours. Now! Darla, my lovely lady, what is the best route to the port, hmm?"

"To the port?" she asked.

"Oh yes, the port, my dear. Think of it thusly: We're but a band of traveling merchants and adventurers, come to a new city for the time, lost in its splendor when, oh goodness, why, we've by accident ended up at the port instead of the proper location for land-based goods, but since we're here, would it be too much of a hassle to pay the tribute to the Dynast here as opposed to there? Why thank you for your understanding, random port authority person, I assure you that in the future this will not happen again."

Darla narrowed her brow for a moment, then she got it. Right there, the spark of realization. If those certain well-to-do merchants had any friends here in Dornoch, there was a higher chance of them also being land-based rather than sea-based merchants. Despite word of the robbery scarcely having enough time to reach here yet, better to be on the side of caution than to have one's vacation ruined by a fluke of recognition.

Darla unfolded and consulted her map of the city again. Plotted the route in her head and took point beside Majister, saying, "Alright. This way."

Majister gave a wave of his hand to the rest of the band and said, "Off we go then, my fine fellows!"

* * * * *​

The port.

After some carefully crafted questions to a few individuals, Majister honed in on where to go and who to talk to. Clearly, not just anybody could accept tribute to the Dynast. A name was presented, and then corroborated: Ichika Tsuri. She had the authority, and she had the proper seal to stamp these particular little papers which would state for Majister and his raiders that the tribute had been paid. Now, to find this Ichika. He had a general description and an approximate idea of her whereabouts to work with, and that was well enough.

Majister and his raiders spent a little more time searching. Majister and Darla at the head of the group, Krull and the wagon at the rear, the rest in something of a gaggle between them.

Then, Majister approached a working orc--whose name unbeknownst to him happened to be Jonas--and asked, "Hello there! How's the family doing, my good man? Do pardon the interruption, but I and my fellows happen to be looking for one Ichika Tsuri. Might you know where I could find her? Business does call, I'm afraid."

Ichika Elijah Volker

 

[Volker]

Volker didn’t quite know what to do in the city. He made for the port. He had been commanded to cause chaos during the ceremony; for an actual contract or for his master’s amusement he wasn’t quite sure. He hoped Oor wouldn’t risk his hide on an elaborate joke or bet, but perhaps his mother had goaded Oor into something. It sounded like something the dragon would do, especially if he couldn’t attend and show up everyone.

Volker stepped quietly around the port. He moved like a cat, nimble enough to avoid the chaos of ships unloading their goods. He was out of place, and had he been younger it was likely someone would have taken him for a troublemaker. He eyed a few of the barrels. Poison was one possible route but he’d need Nestor’s help. The other possible route was sinking a ship, which was dicey. It was more likely he could move amongst the crowd and cause chaos that way.

His father, of course, had a myriad of colorful suggestions he ignored. Volker settled onto a barrel, and watched his surroundings. Namely a large band of loud people searching for a merchant. Noise and crowds were two things Volker despised. The former made it too hard to listen and the latter was...overwhelming, in a word.

Perhaps he would gain a bit by listening, and hope no one had recognized him. It was unlikely; the men who hired him were often mesial lords in minor fae courts, not mortals.

 

[Ichika]

Arms were crossed and a scowl had overtaken Ichika's face. Jonas was moving too slow, far too slow, they needed to get these crates as close to the change station as possible so that they could be loaded onto wagons and moved. Small slowdowns here could result in colossal failures further down the line.

She wanted to bark more orders but she knew the orc was moving as swiftly as he could and the arrival of Leilani proved to distract her ire, if only for a moment.

"Ma'am," her clan-sister started, "can you sign off on their waiver sheet? Three of these crates of Obanese wine are being donated to the Dynast."

"Three? That vessel holds how many crates? At least two hundred. And they believe a mere three crates of wine are an adequate tribute for the remainder of the year?"

The ship was a massive thing, privately owned, and Ichika could tell that the Captain likely ran trade routes year round. Three crates of tribute to avoid taxes for the entirety of the year was nearly insulting. Of course, it would incentivize he and his crew to ensure that Dornoch was a frequent stop for the rest of the trade year and those economic benefits to the nation alone might make up for it.

Ichika tapped at her chin before turning to Leilani, "four crates and I'll authorize it." The resentment in her voice was obvious, "but, Leilani, ensure that it is clear to them that we expect a less insulting tribute next year. And this better not be a one-time route for them."

---

Jonas wiped the sweat from his green forehead, grinding his teeth as some of his human employees struggled with one of their crates. "No, no! Lift with your back, not your knees," the orc helpfully informed them.

Over the call of gulls and the trade wagons rushing to-and-fro the foreman overheard a voice of sophistication calling out to him as he settled one cargo barrel atop another.

"The family?" he questioned with clear skepticism. Some group of humans packed above their shoulders with sacks and merchandise. The dirt on their boots made it obvious they hadn't arrived by boat, their cute little faces made it obvious, to Jonas at least, that they hadn't worked an honest day's labor in their lives.

He grunted, resting one arm against the barrel he had just dropped, and added, "our lady has no kind of time for whatever business you got stranger. Real busy day today."

The orc could see by the look on this man's face that he wasn't going to be talking him off. And unfortunately the foreman had even less time than Ichika did. He glanced up, saw that his matron had finished stamping and signing a form for Leilani and then extended a calloused, stubby, finger towards her.

"That's her. Now leave me be, we aren't even halfway done unloading this vessel." Jonas turned abruptly and walked back towards his team of dock workers, "no! Wrong! Needa go get the crane for that big piece of cargo you idiots, can't carry that by hand."

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Off to a somewhat poor start, Majister's interaction with the workaday orc, but see here! The orc may have said one thing, but he relented for whatever reason satisfied him and pointed to the woman Majister sought anyway. A victory by inches served as well as a victory by miles. In the vernacular: good enough!

"Splendid!" Majister said. "And might I be so bold as to add that you're a fine fellow indeed! Carry on then, carry on. I shall take my pardon and be off!"

The raiders crossed the gap toward Ichika, Majister and Darla still foremost among them. Darla had the map rolled up in hand like a scroll, Mack sauntered along and cast the occasional wolfish glance around at certain individuals across the port, Padre had his arms crossed and appeared dourly impatient, Hillby's pinky had found something particularly interesting in his left nostril, and Krull brought up the rear slowly with the wagon. The rest meandered along as well.

Right on time. Seemed she was concluding business with someone else. Perfect.

"Ichika!" Majister called out once he was close, in the manner of a man meeting a long lost friend once again. He held up a gloved finger. "I've been told about you! That I have! I've been told that you, my dear, are just the woman that I and my esteemed associates are looking for. Do excuse the audacity of us foreigners in finding ourselves turned around in your grand city, but wouldn't you know it, we've accidentally kicked the Misfortune Fairy several times this very day it would appear! All we seek to do is inquire of a knowledgeable and beneficent person such as yourself what it is we are meant to do to sell our wares in accordance with Dornoch's laws. From what I understand, and do correct me if I am misinformed, a tribute must be paid, yes? And one such as yourself is authorized to collect such tribute. Have I got that right?"

He specifically left out a mention of taxes. All the better to play the part of the well-meaning merchant from another land dreadfully unfamiliar with local customs and ordnances. She could introduce it, and then he could compare which was the better option for himself and his band.

Ichika Volker Elijah

 

[Ichika]

A thin black eyebrow crooked upwards at the strange man's introduction. His motley crew of "associates" made it difficult to tell just where this group of traders had hailed from.

Worse still, like many foreigners, it was a male member who assumed the role of 'leader' while the lone female in his group stood quietly with a rolled up scroll of paper. No doubt she was the one with the brains in this group but due to the barbarism of other societies she was expected to be silent and let this smooth talking man speak for her.

"Right, you're turned around," she mimicked in a semi-mocking tone. Typically inland goods were declared at the Customs and Excise Office on the eastern part of town. Either he was telling the truth, and they had missed it, or the odd group had been rejected there and come here for a 'second chance' of sorts.

"What sort of cargo are you carrying? Nothing illicit, I assume?"

If these folk were smugglers or carrying in illegal goods it'd bode poorly for her family were she the one to authorize their legal trade. Not that she expected an honest answer but the manner in which the honey-talker answered would reveal a lot.

She cleared her throat and added one last piece of information, "tributes are optional and they are paid directly to the Dynast. If your tribute is deemed sufficient then all taxes on legal trade goods are waived for a period of one year. Tributes will increase or decrease based upon your declared goods. And, to be very clear sir, you will still need to declare all goods that are imported even if they are not taxed."

Ichika tilted back her straw fishing hat off of her head, allowing it to hang from her shoulders by its strap while her raven colored hair basked in the sun. It was important for foreigners not to feel unwelcome here, after all, the Erdeniin empire was more than happy to welcome traders and additional means of profit into its borders. Wouldn't do if she had made them feel uncomfortable because of a poor first impression.

"You have the advantage of knowing my name but I am afraid I do not know yours. Or your companions," she said while gesturing towards Darla, "will you do me the kindness of sharing your names?"

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

"Absolutely! Call me Majister, if you would be so kind--and you are so kind, I can tell! Why, it may be the first occasion for our splendid meeting but it won't be last, ha ha! For do good friends not fly as feathers on the same wing? But of course they do!"

Majister made a flourish with his hand toward Darla, and she blinked and glanced between them and said, "Oh. Darla."

Then the others. Hillby and Mack and Padre and Krull and the rest. None used any of their delightful monikers while out conducting roadside negotiations--all their normal names. They were simply humble merchants here after all, were they not?

Ah yes, and speaking of being humble merchants. Majister said, "And with regard to the cargo we're carrying, you would assume correctly! Oh, dear Ichika, haven't I told you that you're the smarter one between us? But enough about your sterling qualities, why, we'd be trapped here all day should I read the list aloud, ha ha! Come! Have a look for yourself, if it strikes your fancy!"

Majister folded his arms behind his back again and walked back toward the wagon, and Padre and Mack dutifully pulled back the canvas covering. "Oh yes, we are an eclectic bunch of intrepid individuals, thank you for asking, Ichika! As you can very well see here, our goods are as eclectic as our backgrounds. And here we are, humble tradesmen and merchants, breaking new ground in our venture to this vast Steppe-land and its shining Jewel of a city. Do go easy on us. Why, it is but our first time basking in such splendor."

In the wagon there was an assortment of things: furs, rugs, ingots of silver, gem-inlaid goblets, spools of raw silk, tailored garments, and even a couple crates with packets and bottles of various spices. No weapons, no spooky looking tomes, no human bones, oh no, none that haberdashery! The well-to-do merchants had been on the straight and narrow. But bad things happened to good people--wasn't it simply a tragedy? Why not join the winning team, and be the bad thing happening to those good people instead, hmm?

Majister waited to see if Ichika would do an inspection, or would rather him declare his items, or if she would be a swell gal indeed and simply take his word that they--he and his merry band--were upstanding denizens of Arethil.

Ichika Elijah Volker

 

[Ichika]

Flattery and an overabundance of words were clearly things that this "Majister" fellow was familiar with.

Her eyes narrowed as the group's cart opened up to unveil the wide array of goods. The various knickknacks would usually be an indication that this group were a merchant caravan, bartering for higher goods and following the money. Though it would also fit well with a group committing highway robbery.

"Darla, is it?" Erdeniin society dictated that men were rarely in charge and Ichika's experiences at the port had often involved the opposite sex. Men tended to speak down to her, used to the spot that their respective cultures had placed women in. She had a suspicion that this man might be hustling her, hiding something.

Perhaps his lone female companion would be more forthright, "Darla, where did you all arrive from? Seems like a decent haul for a group of your size. Which company or empire employs you?"

Official documents of employ would ease her concerns. Or state-sponsored papers from one of the major city-states or nations of Arethil. Honest pursuits of mercantilism wasn't illegal but it was a difficult thing to differentiate between brazen theft, blackmarket trading, and honest merchants.

Ichika's arms remained crossed as she circled the wagon, stopping only after she came face-to-face with this 'Darla' woman. Her brown eyes looked the 'merchant' up-and-down, awaiting her response.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Oh, now this should be entertaining to watch. Majister wouldn't go so far as to say that dear Darla was inept at sudden social interactions, no, but by analogy she wasn't the quickest wizard in the College. Add in a dash of pressure from having the fortunes of her peers as well as her own riding atop her shoulders like a heavy, perching creature whose presence one was quite ill-equipped for, and here in this brew we've a recipe for a laugh shared at poor Darla's expense! But perhaps he truly ought to go easier on her--but the bother was that poking and prodding Darla happened to simply be too much fun.

"Me? Oh..."

Off to wonderful start--that horse stumbling straight out of the stable.

But, alas, she recovered. Said, "We've just come from the Allir Reach. Used the Portal Stone, since it was near the tail end of our course. I happened to know a thing or two about Dornoch, so I suggested that we try to ply our trades here. And so we did. Well, come here anyway, we've yet to try selling anything. Oh, and we're freelance."

"Big ol' group of misfits," said Hillby.

Mack jerked a thumb his way, "He's the guy designated to die if we get into a scrap on the road."

"I can't wait for that to happen," said Padre.

"Don't get your hopes up, that thick skull hasn't been cracked yet," said Krull.

Hillby mock scoffed, and then grinned. "Well hell, I guess fuck all o' you then."

Majister sauntered up beside Darla in his relaxed way, and with a lift of his chin asked, attempting to bring the subject back around, "What might your recommendation be, Ichika, now that you have had a gander at our wares? Taxes, or tribute? Surely you'd never lead us astray. Unless it was to play our esteemed Hillby for a fool, in which case all would be forgiven."

Hillby made a rude gesture and snickered. Majister smirked, seeing it out of the corner of his eye, but kept his attention squarely on Ichika.

Ichika Elijah