IC-Scene: The Chapterhouse

Timbo slaved over his desk, scribbling furiously onto a piece of parchment. He'd stayed up all night, trying to work out the concentration of wormwood needed to create a potent enough oil. So far, he hadn't gotten far in his calculations. Owls, flies, the temperature... they all combined into an unbearably uncomfortable mixture. And of course the fact that he worried constantly for the cats: owls weren't known for their mercy. The morning had already arrived when Timbo finally dared to open the shutters. Night air just wasn't good for him. He scratched his beard and mused irritatedly about how he couldn't quite get it to grow. He'd tried to rub all sorts of substances on the tiny growth, but nothing seemed to be working. Timbo, Timbo remarked to himself, you're going bald. He gave a small laugh. And now I'm talking to myself. Fascinating.

Someone knocked on the door thrice. Timbo ignored it and continued his scribbling. Who was it now? Didn't they know that the doctor was busy? Then the knock came again, harder. Timbo paused, sighed heavily and allowed his pen to slip through his tired fingers. My own fault, this mess, Timbo reminded himself as he drowsily got up on his feet, knuckling his eyes in the hope that it would relieve him of some the weariness. "Yes, yes, I am coming!" Timbo called out wearily, feeling not a small amount of irritation. As he opened the door to his unkempt, sweaty room, he came upon a young squire of the Order. It wasn't out of the ordinary for squires to carry messages to knights, sure, but still, at this hour...? Timbo yawned again, scratched his miserable growth of beard and adjusted his stance to be a little bit more menacing. The squire gave no visible sign of being at all fazed by the chaos that resided within Timbo's room. A solid lad, then, or not.

"Sir Timbo, a message from Sir Serilian. You are to report to him immediately."

Hmm, what? From Sir Serilian, you say? Very well, I shall go to him. As soon as I've tidied myself -- oh? No? Very well, fine. I shall leave immediately, then. I regret that the Knight Commander shall then have to cope with my odour. Now you shall go, yes?" The squire nodded and looked as if he was going to say more. "No, no, I am quite fine. Off-you-go." Timbo practically shoved the squire out. He'd somehow managed to slither in. When the squire had turned his back on the knight, the latter turned back into his own room to search for a new shirt and trousers. After having found one - a loose white shirt that hid his growing tummy marvellously and a pair of baggy white trousers - Timbo snatched a small notebook, a feathered quill and some ink from his desk. I've got everything now, don't I? After he found out that he indeed had everything, the knight-doctor left for the Knight Commander's quarters. It required him to cut a small ways through the courtyard, where he could enjoy the cool morning air, fresh breezes coming in from the waters just north of Singal. It was going to be quite a beautiful day from the looks of it. And so it was that Sir Timbo had forgotten almost all of his previous irritation when he finally reached the Knight-Commander's quarters. He sought out the Knight Commander with his eyes.

"Good morn, Commander! Sir Timbo reporting. I have been forced to stay up all night: I hope that you can excuse my odour. What's this summons about, sir? I shall comply to my utmost ability!"

OOC:

The knight commanders office was a simple rectangular room dominated by a massive desk towards the window that overlooked the yard. The faint noises of sword practise could be heard from below. There were some shelves and baskets around the walls, mostly carrying books and parchments scribbled with garrison numbers, orders and the like. A separate door on the rear end led to Serilians private quarters.

Good morning, Sir Timbo, Serilian curtly replied, indicating that he would wait for more knights until disclosing the reason for the summons. The knight commander was a stout man in his fifties who had to have been an impressive figure in younger days. Although he had put on a bit of a belly and his hair was already receding even now his broad shoulders still conveyed an impression of strength and natural authority, only supported by a face into which sun and battle had carved hard lines.

Timbo was taken back by the Commander's curt reply. He found the words coming out of his mouth in a rather confused tone. Ah... eh, so, am I the only one to have received this honor? I'm afraid the messenger only told me to appear here at once." Timbo realized that he was twiddling his thumbs. He stopped it immediately. Then, sounding more in his element, he went on: Now that I'm here, are there any refreshments? I could do with some water, or even better, wine. Haven't drunk a lot since about midnight, you see. Important business."

Serilian looked up from the writings on his desk and first raised an eyebrow at the knight's somewhat bold demeanour in face of a superior. But then a little hint of a smile crept over his mouth.
Of course, Sir Timbo, how inconsiderate of me. Help yourself.
He pointed at some carafes of water and wine occupying one of the shelves near the desk.
I am still waiting for three more knights, then you shall hear the reason of this urgent summons.

“Sir Alerio”

“Sir Alerio?”

A gentle smack against the bearded unwashed cheek did nothing to awaken the drunken man that was covered in blood from his nightly duels. His short rapier lay unsheathed on the table besides an empty flask of fine tawny, it was either drenched in the red liquor or found equally the amounts of blood that had dirtied the knight’s fine tunic. “Sir Alerio, I have a message from Sir Serilian.” The messenger tried again. Dreamily the knight moved to his other side and continued sleeping on the wooden bench.

The tavern keep, always a good sport called him over and whispered something in the young lad’s ear. “Trust me, works like a charm.” He said winking as he returned to counting his profits of the day before.

The messenger nodded and inhaled deeply, seemingly building enough courage for the deed and as he returned to the knight his hands were folded up in fists and he put his foot firmly against the bench as he kicked the dreaming man off it. The infamities the knight exclaimed after the collision with the cold stone floor had awoken him were extreme of nature that would even make the Noldor sex slaves blush from within their tower dungeon. “You bloody halfwit I will gut you like a fish and throw you in a pit with poisonous snakes so you can think on the grave error you have just committed.” Sir Alerio threatened as he crawled up from underneath the table and sought hastily for his rapier and dirk, both located much closer to him than his mind seemed to realize.

“My apologies Sir-knight. But Sir Serilian, he summons you forthwith.”

Finally having found both the rapier and the dirk, Alerio looks at the messenger with a lazy eye. “Who in Astraea’s cunt is Sir Serilian?”

“Certainly you jest, sir.”

“Certainly I jest, after I’ve cut upon your stomach and dedicate it to the cannibal God of the bloody sewers!” Alerio shouted and waggled closer, supporting his unsteady balance with the other tables and benches in the large tavern.

“Sir Serilian is the knight commander of the Order of the Eventide.. your Order Sir Alerio.”

“Your Order Sir Alerio” the knight mocked. “I know to what Order I belong you whining twat. I have eyes as to which I can see the crest on my tunic.”

Sighing, figuring he could hardly gut one of the Order’s messengers, Alerio sought a wine flask that hadn’t gone empty yet and gulped the liquid down in a matter of seconds. “Very well. Let’s go to knight commander Serilian.” He sheathed his cutlery and motioned the messenger to lead the way.

Only a meagre twenty minutes later he walked across the practice yard where he laughed and mocked some of the lesser skilled knights and tricked a young page into thinking he had bewitched him by giving him the black spot, which was just some charcoal but what would the kid know. The elation of drunkenness faded by the time he had walked the steps and arrived at the knight commander’s quarters. This would have to be a short visit as he was in dire need to dull his senses.

“I hear ye’ve need for me?” Alerio said as he, without knocking, entered the office in big strut as some sort of announcement. Had he come any later he would have missed the good doctor ask for wine, “Yes wine. Can’t start a better any better way.” He stated, but seemed conflicted all the sudden “well, perhaps some pies would make it better.”

By the looks of the knight, dried blood and wine all over his tunic and smelling like he hadn't washed in days one would almost mistake him for a common tavern brawler.

Timbo skipped over to the flasks, his practised hands soon pouring wine into his cup. He gulped it all down as if in great thirst, and then moved on to the carafes of water: getting drunk wouldn't do him any favours here. After pouring himself some, he turned around to see another knight enter. This one he knew quite well, very well in fact. After all, it'd always been Timbo's job to patch the man up after his nightly adventures - and this was a man widely known within... other circles. The doctor's eyes were drawn to the blood on the knight's tunic, and he almost rolled his eyes in exasperation. Instead, Timbo raised his voice, attempting a cheery tone.

"Ah, Sir Alerio! I am glad to see you in one piece." Timbo's eyes twitched towards the blood again.

"I see that you've been at it again. Have you any wounds or cuts that need looking at? Remember: even the tiniest cut can fester and cause great pain, even death!" The third best part of his work was that Timbo had plenty of opportunities to spout words of wisdom at rash knights. He did enjoy the wise old man-act.

The sweet smell of mushroom stew occupied the mess hall as the resident cook made all sorts of preparations for the hungry men that were sure to come in droves after morning practice. He started cooking sausages just when he heard an unlikely voice.

“My, that smells mighty fine!”

The cook turned to see a large blond haired man with a white tunic, black trousers, and a long sword at his side. He raised an eyebrow as he looked the man up and down.
“If it isn’t Sir Tebbe, quite a rare sight to see you this early”

Tebbe passed his hand over his short hair as he sighed.
“I finally get a room appointed to me but the blasted window points directly at the rising sun...”

The cook gave a small chuckle and started going back to work.
“Don’t be like that, most of us don’t even have windows, let alone the luxury of having our own rooms.”

Tebbe gave a thinking look and nodded; he moved to grab a plate but stopped halfway as he heard a voice calling him.
“Sir Tebbe, a message from Sir Serilian, he asks for your presence at his quarters as soon as possible”

Tebbe gave a back and forth look at the stew and the squire and finally gave a sad sigh.
“Very well”

Tebbe moved through the courtyard as he made small talk with passing acquaintances until he reached the knight commanders room. He knocked and opened the door.
“I heard you wanted to see me sir Serilian...”

He stopped himself midsentence as he noticed Timbo and Alerio.
“Morning gentlemen”

"And what a fine morning it is! I see that we are only one short of the full pack." Timbo said grinningly.

A knock,

A sword cut through the body,

A knock,

An arrow piercing the skull,

A knock,

A great claymore cutting through the mass,

A thundering roar as the man charges and swings his sword.

Ser Erebus wakes up in a sudden dash from the bed and unsheathes his sword. The morning sweat from the nightmare causing him great alarm. Only a dream... he thought to himself. There was another knock, this time it wasn't in the middle of a siege. Ser Erebus wraps a sheet from the bed, uncovering the maiden he conquered last night. She shivers.

Ser Erebus opens the door to the morning-ruiner. "Aye, what can I do the great pleasure of that who would disturb a knight in his abode?" He replied in a tired tone.

"Your grace! Sir Serilian has summoned you to his offices. He insists that you arrive immediately. The Lord Commander said he would debrief you of your summons personally." The scribe hands over directions to the office, in case one were to forget.

Directions to the Commanders residence? Does the Lord not think highly of his knights to keep a sharpened brain? Must of been for Sir Alerio, the madman, he considered.

Ser Erebus walks over to the nightstand and resets his sword to lay slanted against the wall, locked back in place from the previous unsheathing. He takes a vial and chugs it. The sweat begins to diminish and he looks over to the maiden, still fast asleep. He threw a few coins upon the table and a note saying to take her time into leaving. Ser Erebus fastened his ebony-clad armor, still comfortable as it has always been. The light dare not even penetrate it's glowing darkness. He proceeded to wrap his tabard around the chestplate, which donned his household crest: An Eagle pulling the darkness over the setting sun.

He made his way through the courtyard and into the market, where bought interests lay. The merchants of the morning steadily and respectfully nod their head as Ser Erebus walks through, only to return the same gesture.

He reached the Lord Commanders office and noticed the three knights compiled around the room. This ought to be interesting, he thought.

"Morning Lord Commander," as he hit his chest with his gauntlet. "Fellow Sirs," another hit to the chest.

He then stands, hands behind back ready to listen, glancing only and those who would drink wine, this very early.

Good morning, Sirs, Serilian finally said a bit more decisive than necessary so as to interrupt the chatter and drinking. He looked around the four gathered knights, his gaze moving from the probably still drunk Sir Alerio over the disorderly Sir Timbo to the notoriously heartbreaking Sir Erebus, who still had traces of a heavy Singalian perfume surrounding him, finally resting on Sir Tebbe. The latter's averagely tidy appearance making him quite an outstanding figure in this company.

He snorted, as if to wave away the thought that if that was the best the Eventide could muster then the order would be in serious trouble.

Anyway, he said, picking up a letter from his desk, I have received very disconcerting news from Sir Varys. His associate Haruch has vanished and signs of a fight have been found in his quarters. We must thus assume that he has been abducted or killed. Haruch was a very valuable associate of our order whose knowledge of the sewers and catacombs below Singal is unsurpassed. His loss is not to be taken lightly and investigation of this case is urgent.

He paused for a moment, then continued.

Both Knight-Commander Varys and Knight-Chaplain Celdiur Moriendur are busy with tasks given to them by Lord Azlanek, and so it falls to the best of our knights ... he hesitated and smirked as he looked around again ... to solve this mystery and, if possible, rescue Haruch.

Varys's squire Rocorad is waiting for you at Haruch's quarters downstairs to show you the scene of the fight and answer any possible questions about it. If you need information on anything, I have ordered the Knight-Librarian Sir Garosh to assist you in any way he can.

He squared his shoulders, assuming a proper military posture.

Any questions?

After listening to his assignment, Alerio felt the strong need to refill his cup. “Sewers and catacombs.” He fiercely emptied half his cup and filled it again before turning back to his company. “Isn’t there a job involving taverns and courtesans? There’s no use to be made of sewers besides flushing away shit and hide the unintended dead.”

Not that Alerio would refuse the task, as he surely wasn’t one to disobey Lord Azlanek and face the man’s wrath. Instead he waited if anyone else had something to ask or made way to Haruch’s quarters so he wouldn’t have to find the way down there himself.

'Gone?' Timbo said to himself. 'If Ser Varys was here, they wouldn't have dared...' It was this inner monologue that allowed Sir Timbo to escape the Knight-Commander's smirks. He scribbled a few notes into his notebook and then drew himself into a military posture, trying his best to look like a proper knight.

"Leave it to our capable hands, Knight-Commander!" Timbo said and saluted, his belly rippling slightly beneath his shirt as he did so.

Missing? Sewers and underground? Surely this was for a quest for the plebs of this city and not it's own Knights Order..Yet the commander smirks, as if he is pleased to send us.

"Yes Commander, we will do everything in our power to successfully complete our mission. My beast will help as well, a great tracker. The possessions at his quarters will give us a scent of him, or his assaulters."

Sir Erebus hit his hand on his breastplate as a sign of compliance. He looks around the room at his companions, acknowledging the fact that the party may not be much of use but only in due time.

Tebbe glanced at the three men at his sides as the knight commander gave his spiel. While being their equal in rank, he certainly felt the difference in notoriety and experience. The up and coming knight felt pride in his belly when he heard the Knight Commander consider him among the best, missing the potential sarcasm in his voice. He stroked his chin and listened attentively as the description of the mission was laid out and gave a repeated nod of approval until the end.  

When the Knight Commander ended his briefing, Tebbe looked out at the rest of the knights again as they gave their response. He furrowed his brow when he heard Alerio’s talk of whores and noticed the unkemptness of his company. “Is this to be my future?” He thought to himself gloomily. However, his mood lightened as he heard Timbo’s jovial response and Erebus’ reassuring baritone. He gave a stern face, remembering that he was given this task as an equal to these men and not a subordinate.

“No questions for me knight Commander; I share my fellow knights’ conviction on the matter”

He finally gave his salute.

Very well, then you are dismissed, Sirs, Serilian responded and returned the salute.

The knights left the office and made their way down to Haruch's quarters. Since Haruch was not a member of the order or the fighting corps of the Ghilmen he had been given a room in the kitchen wing where the other staff lived that took care of the more lowly tasks related to keeping a chapterhouse running.

Squire Rocorad was waiting for them at the entrance to the corridor leading from the great hall to the kitchen.

Honourable Sirs, he greeted them with a slight bow, Sir Varys has informed me that he personally requested several knights to investigate this matter and I am glad you are here. Is there anything else you would like to do or should I show you Haruch's room right now?

Timbo stepped up eagerly. This was likely going to be a very interesting day. "Rocorad, is it? How's th-- the day?" he switched what he was going to say mid-sentence. Asking about a man's unfortunately located abscesses might not be the wisest thing to do in front of witnesses.

"Anything you can tell us about this event? What was Haruch doing before he disappeared?" he continued in a contained tone, trying to forget all about the abscesses. "Anything you can tell us may prove vital."

Haruch was - or is - one of Sir Varys's closest associates, the squire responded, giving Timbo an almost unnoticable nod. He is the most competent of sewer guides and has been of vital importance for the takeover of district one some time ago. He has been with us ever since the events in district 13, which was the first one to be taken over by us. Sir Garosh should have Sir Varys' reports on both endeavours ready in the archives.

As my master is currently on mission outside of Singal Haruch had no imminent tasks to perform. I had been instructed to use the spare time and teach him a bit of fighting, but he was not to eager on that.

"When was the last time you were in contact with Haruch?" Timbo began to move up the corridor.

"As we're talking, we might as well go to his room."

Tebbe nodded in agreement as Timbo talked to Rocorad and started following the knight.

"I agree, we should certainly look for the room as we talk, if this Haruch was truly kidnapped then time is of the essence."

A brisk pace was established when Sir Timbo started questioning the squire. Through the immediate questioning, a squire Sir Erebus dispatched fetched Rodnep and handed the leash to the knight.

The Squire nodded, got one in return, and departed.

Sir Erebus stayed silent through the first set of questions and observed the surroundings.

"This be district 13 lad? If not, who is in control of this region. Are there any contested parties we may want to take note of?," asked Sir Erebus to Haruch.

Sir Alerio seemed to be dozing off while he rested against the wall behind the knights. Whether he really was, or just pretended to do so because he found the whole thing ridiculous and dull.. he didn't even know himself.

Some days ago, Sir, Rocorad answered Timbo's question. His absence was noted quickly but a brawl among the kitchen rabble or a stable lad going missing in the alleys of Singal is nothing uncommon, and Haruch being Sir Varys's personal associate the staff overseers did not know of his special qualities. It was only when I reported the matter to Sir Varys that he requested immediate action be taken.

He fell silent while leading them down the corridors until Erebus continued with his question.

Rocorad replied: No, Sir, this here is district one. District 13 lies north of here in the north-eastern corner of the city. We drove all rival organisations from the east of the city or convinced their local leaders to cooperate with us.

They had by this time passed all the servants quarters, but Rocorad had not stopped at any of these. Instead he was now leading them down to the cellar of the kitchen wing. Seeing the questioning looks on their faces he explained:
Haruch was never comfortable sleeping overground. That is why he was given a former storage room in the cellar to sleep in.

Down another corridor past a number of storage rooms filled with food and commodities they finally arrived at Haruch's room.

The door was open. Inside there was a simple bed, a stool and a little table that formerly bore an earthen washing bowl. The fight had to have been short for only the table was toppled with the washing bowl's potsherds strewn over the ground.

Timbo stepped into the room and took in the scene before him. "Have your people searched this room yet? We're going to need trustworthy knights for the job, if not. Hand-picked by m--us, that is. Maybe the abducter or Haruch left something behind, even if only a piece of cloth or something."

Sir Erebus enters the room with his fellow knights. Looking at the small furnishing in such a dark, damp place; away from the world.

Rodnep was beginning to sniff around, scents abound everywhere. Hopefully the Squire will lend useful items that the dog could use.