IC Scene: The Streets of Sarleon

Merzinas stalks into the bar after seeing to the old scribe in the Astraean monastery. Things were bad enough already, the only chapel of Astraea in Sarleon was tense enough with the warriors of day and night trying to pay their respects and not break out into open warfare, but the blasphemy of the Griffons had made all the Knights tense. The chapel was dead silent, the Dawn was in deep worry, and the Eventide quiet out of respect or smugness, Merzinas did not know. He went straight up to the barman, looking at the crewd menu on the wall:

Booze: half a denar
Stew: 1 denar

Simple enough, he'd never drunk before, angrily swatting the money from his pouch on the table, the barman knew the angry types well enough to hand over the grog without bothering them, but the boy, barely a man infront of him was in full chainmail and had his sword and dagger at his side, most concerning was the blazing sun on his chest, the barman gazed worriedly at the Eventider in the corner, praying for the two to stay away from each other. He was drawn back to looking at the squire when a series of hacking coughs broke out from him, the pitcher of beer he had given him was drained, and the boy seemed to be struggling to keep it all down.

Merzinas stood up, walked a few paces and opened the stew pot, the black sludge bubbling inside was disgusting, but the only food available, still he knew how to fix that. Walking back to the bar, he ordered another beer, he drank this one slightly slower this time however, treating it like it was water wasn't a good idea. He put the empty mug down and sniffed the air, the smell still wasn't nice. He slammed another denar down on the bar, his empty tankard flipped over and crashed to the floor. The barman supplied two other mugs, muttering:

"The coins won't slide of the counter boy, no need to hit them so hard."

Merzins grumbled in return, daintily lifting the coin and carefully placing it down again. He took several minutes now to finish to two cups in front of him. Now he could stomach the soup, placing another denar down, he goes over and ladels out the sludge, the smell is still awfull, but there is a merciful lack of care Merzinas now felt, and he ate it without complaint, picking out the hairs from his teeth every now and then.

Rising, he takes his meal over to the cloaked Eventider and sits down on a table near him. His actions are mildly wild, but he is still sober enough to control most of them, although it is apparent he no longer observes social conventions, or the taboo of talking to Eventide.

"You'll have to forgive me, I never got your name from the proceedings knight?"

Not waiting for the reply, he continued:

"I suppose you're all dancing a jig in your own quarters at this"

Varys looked up and down at the squire.

He's had too much to drink already..the detainment of his Grandmaster must have gotten to him.

Varys said, "My name is Ser Varys. I believe yours is Merzinas?"

Continuing, he said "We are not..ah..how do you put it...celebrating at this news. No matter our differences, seeing an blatant disregard for justice and fanatical zealot imprison one of the most influential men of the realm is nothing to celebrate about. I stand firmly behind Aranor, and will make sure my stance is clear to the King."

A plainly clothed man entered the tavern not long after Merzinas had joined Ser Varys. He wore a rugged brown hooded cloak over burlap clothing, a fine black sword swinging at his side. He would have been easily taken for a peasant had he not walked like a knight. He looked around until his eyes found Varys. And the ever so curious Dawn squire. Blind drunk. He sighed and made his way over to the table.

Once there he lowered his hood and Celdiur took a seat alongside the two. He unbuckled his sword and placed it upon the table.

"I had a funny feeling I would find you here Varys. Though I did not realise you would already have company"

He looked at Merzinas and couldnt help but feel sorry for him.

"Alcohol cannot make your anger at today's events dissappear squire, only fuel it further. Best not to cloud your mind and keep your wits about you for the trail tomorrow"

Merzinas perked up at the name Varys, and screwed his face up trying to gaze deeper into his cowl. "Varis, Varys, Varis, Varys, hows that spelt? Not in any way related to our Varis surely?"

He looked up at the approaching figure, vaguely recognised as Celdiur, he followed him bemusedly with his eyes untill he unbuckled his sword, Merzinas grinned sheepishly at the thought:

"Thatsh a good idea, it's starting to pinch a bit" Merzinas makes several awkward thrusts forward with his hips to the table as he tries to undo his belt buckle and remove it from his waist. After several failed endeavours, he manages to slip it down his legs and let it fall to the ground, where he then scrapes it along the floor to under his chair. The floor groans out in protest.

At Celdiur's words Merzinas pushes his stew over to him to inspect: "I'm not drinking, I'm having sludge, healthy healthy sludge." Looking down at the bowl you can see a thick steam rise off it, the smell is horrific.

Varys's eyes darken.

"I know a Varis..yes, I believe I do. I have a certain..history..with that one."

'You brothers or cousins of some kind?" Mumbled Merzinas half-heartedly, he lay forward onto the table now, his chin resting on his forarms, eyes slowly drooping.

"Not exactly." Varys said, with a grudging smile.

"I suggest you return to your quarters, young squire. You look like you're about to pass out."

"ppssghf arfhy garmmle ffhossall" he barely managed to get out, eyes now almost shut. It became apparent that someone was likely going to have to carry him home.

As the squire's eyes slowly began to shut, Varys sighed. He quickly slit Merzinas's throat motioned at Celduir to follow him, and he got up, moving to another table, far away from this one.

Celdiur pinged the squire lightly on the ear. He barely stirred at all. Perfect.

He picked up his sword and followed Varys to the other table. He took another glance to make sure Merzinas was not aware that they had moved before turning his attention back to Varys.

"Alright. What ails you friend? News from Singal?"

Varys nodded, a grim look on his face.



Whispering to Celduir, he said "I've been in contact with members of the Crippled Sun. They're the representatives of the city council. They wanted to reaffirm our commitment to helping Singal. He said that they were waiting for the outcome of the meeting to see if they were willing to trust the Eventide. I haven't met with him again, but I'll be going to tell him the outcome, so far, of the meeting. If we don't, it's going to be much harder to gain influence in Singal."

Celdiur's face grimaced. He didnt like what he was told.

"The Crippled Sun can go fuck themselves. We'll see soon enough whom the people of Singal trust more"

"Of course we will try our best for Singal, but I do it for its people, not the bloody council and especially not for the Shadow!"

He smirked and took a gulp from his tankard before continuing.

"We'll play his game for now, but the day is coming when the Eventide take back Singal in the name of Justice, I swear it. We already gave them an opportunity for expansion with Nal Tar becoming a free city, and we should continue to argue that Rela should be placed under Singal's jurisdiction. That should show them where our priorities lie. And besides, we too will benefit from such a gain. I seem to have a plan forming"

He grinned as he said those last words.

Varys nodded.

"Still, I suggest you don't take them too lightly for now. They're quite powerful, and I would hate for us to underestimate their abilities."

He smiled, and said "Sounds like a good one. I'll be going to meet with him soon. Take care, Brother."

Varys put up his hood and turned. As he was turning, he caught sight of the squire, fast asleep on the table.

"Would you care to wake him up, Celduir? I would hate for the Dawn to lose another member so quickly."

He walked out into the night, heading for the Arrow and the Star.

The city of Sarleon was the second-largest city in whole Pendor. It was in the perfext spot: open for trade routes and safe from enemies. However, it was also a home to several religious sects. Followers of all the Pendoria Gods could be found there, not to mention their shrines. Sir Azrael found himself at a small chapel for Astraea near the castle. He needed to gather his thoughts here, all alone in peace.

He kneeled in front of the altar, leaning on his holstered, strapped, greatsword. The sunlight poured in from the windows, directing themseves from the azure handle to the walls and floor. It was somewhat beautiful, but Sir Azrael closed his eyes and meditated.


OOC: In other words, I won't attend that party of yours.

Sir Aranor wandered into the hall, and saw Sir Azrael. First a look of surprise came over his face, then a smile.

"I didn't know the Griffons had believers in Astraea." he spoke.

Sir Aranor didn't know what to make of this Griffon, he had always thought the Griffons to be particularly secular, and more to the worship of Eunomia Stabilitis. At least, from the ones he had seen near Javiksholm, he didn't take any to be religious.

Sir Azrael was quite surprised to hear the Dawn grandmaster's voice. He had not been expecting anyone here. Without turning around or opening his eyes, he addressed the knight.

"Do not judge the book by its cover. Griffons come from all around Pendor, so there are people from many religions too."

Sir Aranor strode closer to the knight

"Truly. It seems that all roads, figurative and literal, truly lead to Sarleon."

Sir Aranor walked up to the altar

"Do not mind me Griffon. I just came to offer up a prayer."

Sir Aranor bows his head, and stood still as a statue.

Sir Azrael moves to the left to allow more room to grandmaster Aranor and closes his eyes again to focus his thoughts.

Sir Azrael opened his eyes soon. There was one thing he just had to ask.

"Why did you attempt to deny the truth, grandmaster Aranor?"

"I never denied it Griffon. Its called semantics. Why you kept going about it, i dont know."

"I have one thing to ask you. why are there hundreds of griffons staying here while a snake cult invasion is in the south? Sir Darlion told me at my camp that you were all marching south."

He turns to the griffon, eagerly awaiting a response

"Yes, you never denied it outright. But the meaning was there."

Sir Azrael paused for a moment.

"I do not know much about anything Duke Darlion might have said, I was in Laria at the time. But we are bodyguards in the end. The order's purpose is to protect his Majesty. And it is rare for the order to wage war without the approval of his majesty. In this case, the Crown wasn't informed until the battle was over."

Aranor shook his head

"What good do you do this kingdom sitting in this city? Does an army in the south not endager his majesty?"

"Protecting his majesty. One must not underestimate the effect of a hundred or two knights when terrifying assassins."

Sir Azrael spoke with some humor in his voice with that.

"However, saying that Griffons only stay in a city is very stretched. The order upholds law and order where it has influence. In similiar vein to the rest of the orders here in Pendor. And as I mentioned, the Crown wasn't informed until the end of the battle."

"Local forces? The only reason that the Shadow Legion can perhaps survive that battle is because of the Silvermist army marching down there."