Private Tales The Plantation

[Scarlet]

There was nothing unusual about the request sent out to Blackwatch. By the time it had reached the stalkers and Lord Dafydd received a response, his problem had grown out of hand. He had heard witness of three acts of magic on his lands. Three. And the frequency was only picking up, lending to an ever growing tension over the land.

The tension would be palpable to any stranger that came riding down the lane along the field before the mansion. There was no singing in the fields as it was worked. There was no laughter. There was just the whistling of a whip as heads turned to catch glimpse of the stranger riding in.

Some of the people looked broken and others just looked ... stiff. There was no misunderstanding what they were, slaves were common down in these parts. They all all were bent over the mind numbing work of tending to the long stretches of farmland the lord owned. There was no doubting he was a wealthy man. No one looked particularly thin. Ample bunkers for the workers could be see to the far right in the distance. Housing quarters for paid staff sat a comfortable distance from the mansion in the center of it all. And it was large-- five floors at least and made of marble and other finally stained wood.

One slave with a swollen eye shot the new comer a glare before a slave driver pointed the whip at him in an unmistakable threat.

 

[Garrett]

Garrett had been dispatched once more from the likes of his home; Blackwatch. The journey to yet another site of mystery and misfortune had not been overly long this time around. When he had arrived he did so in his trademark plate, it's articulated make decorated with fine engravings and a wolf pelt.

Atop a sturdy destrier he was as tall as a giant, the footfalls of his approach suggesting nothing but the same. Before him had been the new seat of his future operations. Currently, he was to meet with Lord Dafydd for a detailed description of the 'magical occurrences' he was sent out to investigate.

A local guardsman, no doubt on the payroll of Lord Dafydd held up a hand at Garrett's approach. "Halt," he had said to him, his free hand brushing off a patch of dirt from his leg. "What business do you have here?" He then elected to ask, both of his hands thumbing the straps of his cuirass.

Atop his destrier, Garrett gave his leather reigns a tug and slowed before the man. "Easy, Onyx," he had murmured to his steed. The name no doubt originated from the horse's hair; a black coat speckled with the occasional white tips. Onyx snorted through his nose and bobbed his head up as the guardsman came into view.

"I'm here to see your lord; a Stalker of Liadain." Garrett continued to speak, his voice echoing through the mask of steel before him.

 

[Scarlet]

The guard gave him a heavy once over before nodding and jerking his chin towards the manner. "This way." A servant came up to take the horse's reigns as Garrett dismounted. Unlike the slaves, the boy had no trouble making eye contact and gaping at the man before him.

The guard didn't slow or wait for the visitor to keep pace with him. He brought Garrett across the court yard and up the grand front steps. Marble columns served as support beams to the porch roof, covered in sprawling ivy. A well trained butter was at the door, ready to take his... gauntlets? His nostrils flared in well concealed distaste.

Garrett was brought to a waiting room, covered in velvet and lace bits and bops. It was everything you'd expect out of a wealthy Lord. Refreshments were served, until ten minutes later, the butler came knocking back on his door. "Lord hardtospellname will see you now." And he turned and walked away.

Into a deeper chamber, Garrett was led. And sitting in a decorative chair on the other side of a fine mahogany desk was Lord hfjkhdujfakhd himself. His hair was beginning to whiten, and his firm expression explained the aged and weathered look to his face.

A similar chair sat waiting open for Garrett to take.

 

[Garrett]

As inviting as they seat may have been, Garrett opted to stand. He was here to fulfill a task, and therefore had no desire to occupy himself with trivialities. The man rubbed his gloved hands over one another, seeing as they were now free of the articulated plate once fastened over them.

That butler better not doing anything to his gauntlets.

"Lord Dafydd," the stalker began dryly. "I'm here as per your plead for assistance to Blackwatch." While his words lingered in the air, Garrett clenched a fist within his right hand, idly listening to the crinkle of his glove's leather. "What magical occurrences have taken place within your land?"

Stalkers were well-suited to handle almost anything as long as it wasn't an army. They were few in number, and greater threats that might amass required the assistance of the local garrison's at times. Hopefully Garrett wasn't dealing with an uprising within the Lord's working populace.

 

[Scarlet]

Lord Dafydd sat back in his chair, his knuckles turning white on the arm rest as he took a long moment to respond. "Right to the point then, I respect that." He took a long draught of a spiced ale and gestured one sat there waiting for Garrett, if he cared for the refreshment.

"It started out small. One guard swore he caught sight of a slave *flying* through the fields. Of course it was late at night and he had been drinking," He rolled his eyes, unapproving. "None of these slaves should have magic," he told Garrett firmly, leaning forward and tapping his finger on the table to accentuate every word. "My family has been breeding it out of their blood line for centuries, none of *that* folk has it."

"But the reports kept coming- A whip turned into a snake during a public flogging. A swarm of *bats* attacking people. The worst of it was last week when the silo exploded during evening capers. Nothing but magic could have caused it. The fire nearly reached the mansion. I lost half a crop to that. I want the perpetrators brought to me. You'll of course be compensated for your time." He sat back, folding his hands over his lap and eyeing Garrett over.

 

[Garrett]

The stalker listened intently, his posture rigid and unmoving all the while. Garrett had taken note of Lord Dafydd's changing demeanor when he began to describe his most recent clashes with the would be mages causing a stir.

"Do you want the mages found and killed, Lord Dafydd?" He asked flatly.

While his question lingered in the air, Garrett declined the drink offered to him initially with the shake of his head. It was clear he was not here to idle, no, but to fulfill a job and return home. Like all stalkers were taught, hunting mages was a extremely dangerous task, as even novice casters could accidentally cause tremendous harm to their aggressors.

"...to finish breeding it out of the bloodline, so to say."

 

[Scarlet]

"Naturally," Lord Dafydd confirmed. "But don't worry yourself over that final detail, that is my concern.You only need find them and bring them to me. Discrepancy is important once you do, Master Stalker. I'll need you then to inform the guard so they can bring in the perpetrator's family with minimal .... *disruption*." He raised a brow at Garrett. "Can you do it?"

 

[Garrett]

"You wouldn't have requested the presence of someone you didn't think could do the job, Lord Dafydd." Garret answered in short.

Was there really more he had to say? Likely not. His rigid posture and stern gaze was telling enough of his tact for work.

In continuation the large man labored a step closer to the Lord's desk, "I will root out the mages and see to it they're brought before your guard. I will not seek confrontation, but if the mages give me cause, I will do what is necessary." Garret nodded.

As his dialogue concluded, and his dedication to the current objective underlined, the man saw no need to linger and drawl over business finalities. "Are there any particular leads you've been made aware of? Or shall I seek out the captain of the guard for the investigative details?"

 

[Scarlet]

"The captain of the guard will know it all," he said dismissively. "I do not have time to familiarize myself with the faces of the slaves. Mathews will take you to your logging now so you can freshen up and store your things." He stood, gesturing for his butler to emerge from a corner he had adeptly made himself invisible in.

"Will you be needing a days rest, or can you start after super?" There didn't seem much room for an answer besides 'now'.

 

[Garrett]

Supper. When was the last time Garrett had a proper meal? Forget a meal, what about a proper rest? Sure, he was fine enough traveling day and night; his training bid it so. Though, he would be a fool to pass up the opportunity. "Time to settle would be much appreciated, Lord Dafydd. The trip was tiring." Garrett replied in kind, the slightest bow of his head being given.

As the man rose another inquiry took to his tongue, "And my horse, Onyx, where is he?"

While the stalker and Lord conversed, the butler posted outside was more than aware of what his job now was. It was time to eat, and soon too. Hastily, although still calmly, he set down Garrett's gauntlets onto a small corner table just outside his Lord's quarters and made off for the kitchens.

A feast was to be held.

GingerFruit

 

[Scarlet]

"Very well," Lord Dafydd amended, his lips pursed. "After dinner it is." He stood up himself, placing his napkin on the table. "Your horse is being taken care of in the stables, where else would he be? Mathews?" The butler inside the room looked to his master. "Show our guest here to his rooms, and then the stables if he requests so-- that was going to be your next request, was it not?" He shot up a brow at Garrett. Before he could even answer, Lord Dafydd gave a dismissive gesture to them both.

"On with you then."

The butler opened the door, holding it for the awaited Garrett. He would be given a room inside the mansion, at least. And not even with the staffing quarters. Lord Dafydd was a brash man, but he wasn't past propriety.

 

[Garrett]

No verbal response was given as the Lord seemed to simply discard Garrett like a piece of foiled paper. The lumbering stalker would remain in place for but a moment, as though confused. Mathews quickly came to his aid, offering a departing inclination of his torso to his Lord and smiling expectantly at Garret.

It had been a great deal of time since he had seen the likes of a mansion, and this one in particular was quite... grandiose. No doubt a representation of the man who owned and prided himself within it's construct. As he walked, Garrett's gauntlets were returned to him, the man simply fastening the plating to his hips.

"How long until we eat?" He called out to the man that unlocked his room door.

Mathews had not yet offered a reply as he fiddled with the keys and found the proper one. With that satisfying cranking, the door opened, and in Garret was led.

 

[Scarlet]

"Three hours, Sir. Do you need any clothed laundered in the meantime? Or a fresh set brought to you for.... proper attire," he said carefully, picking his words with grace as to not insult their guest." He held open the door for the man, eyes scanning over him, already guessing his approximate size and preferred formal wear. There were so many different bits and bobs to wear, it really was a skill at all to guess a man's preference.

Down the hall, at the butler's back, a small child peeked out around the corner. It's face was dirty and its eyes a curious blue. It stared at Garret, its fear of the stranger palpable. Another small hand reached out, snatching the dirty child behind a door. It shut hurriedly with a soft *click*.

 

[Garrett]

Garrett stared long down the hall, eyes bounding between the mysterious disappeared child and the butler continuously. It was perhaps a servant of some kind, now being scolded for wandering late; for stealing a glance at the new arrival. The child would be noted.

"I will take a tunic. The rest you decide. Nothing overbearing or prissy. I'm sure you know my type." He said now nodding to the butler.

Even if Mathews had never really guessed the clothes for many before... something told him, if not Garrett, the type of man he was. He didn't like drawing in eyes, but he liked to compliment himself. He was confident and prideful. It was likely something black would be of his stature. Or perhaps something with more prominent leather, and a small cloak. Though, it was in the butler's hands now.

A faint smile would be traded between the two men before Garrett now turned into his room and began unfastening his heavy plate. It didn't take long for him to remove his first large pauldron, and then next move on to the wolf pelt strewn over his other shoulder.

"You don't have to launder anything. But thanks."

And with that, Mathews was free to leave. Garrett wouldn't see to it the man left, not squeamish in the least bit if he just would of stood there while he undressed and prepared for dinner. Though, it was doubtful the butler really would want to stay. What was enrapturing about a man changing anyways?

 

[Scarlet]

Mathews of course left swiftly, bowing from his waist in a brisk, polite farewell.

Thirty minutes later a set of clothing would be delivered to his door, along with a pitcher of warm water to wipe oneself down with. There was nothing of note about the delivery. Just another servant girl with downcast eyes and outstretched arms, handling off the bundle before scurrying away. When unfurled, the man would find the clothing to be exactly the kinda thing he would like to wear. And it fit remarkably well too.

Magic.

Everyone seemed afraid of him. They knew what he was. He would be left unbothered to rest and refresh, until the clock struck half past six and Mathews rapped promptly at his door to escort him to the dining room.

 

[Garrett]

"Coming, butler." Garrett grumbled as he gave himself a final look over in the mirror before him. He'd never been a man for shaving often, and trimming his hair, but with how the Lord had been in his meeting, it was for the best he groomed. So he had done, by grace of what was already made available in his quarters.

When the door was pulled open, the stalker looked quite grim, but eventually a faint smile would part across his expression. "I'm your man to lead," he said with a bow, stepping out of his room and closing the door behind him. While he walked out into the hall, he finished fastening one of his three swords to his side; turning to await Mathews.

"Care to tell me the history of his... manor, while we walk? I find myself intrigued."

 

[Scarlet]

The butler looked on with distaste as the sword was secured onto his person. Really? A sword at the dinner table? How uncouth.

He began to lead Garrett through the halls, his chest puffing out slightly as he spoke. "Yes, well. It does have long, noble history," he drawled. "The Wiltzers have been lords of this land for generations. It produces only the finest quality of crops, even the serfs feel the wealth of the land. I dare say we have none of that poor lot around here."

Besides the slaves. But they didn't count, right? They were slaves.

"The Lord's great grandfather had a hand in planning the building of this mansion. Only the finest granite would be brought in, naturally, as well as timber. Some say the wood in the great hall is from Falwood trees themselves, given willfully by the elves themselves. So, only the finest, you see. It's been in the family ever since. The Lord's son will naturally inherit it next."