Caloren: City of Lost Virtues [M] IC

[Scabious]

"Throw in a little songbird for my daughter, and I'll throw in a few more silver. Then, we have ourselves a deal." Edward says, pulling his coin purse from under the bar. He counts out 3 gold, 2 silver. Romulus pretended as though he knew all that the man said about hawks, and almost try to say he was joking. So, he simply hid his embarrassment behind a grin. "Well, I'm sure I'll get something from you later, then..."

A man, his torso protected by thick iron and steel, walked through the door. People continued talking, but it was more quite. Many small songs stopped, and some men turned their heads. Most had nothing to fear from the law, but a few men, and indeed women, had feared that their debts had caught up to them, and looked for a crack to slip out of. Edward, seeing the man, kept his coin out. He began counting out, under his breath, a few more gold coin.

"Good day to you, Mr. Hollenn." The man said. He wasn't mean, he didn't men to be intimidating, he simply appeared so. He was a tall man, a man who had seen his battles. A leader of men, he was. In fact, one could see two of his men outside the tavern, ready to come in, if there was to be any trouble. "Good day, Sir." Edward replied, handing over the man' dues. The commander, looking around him, seeing many foreign faces, decided to introduce himself. "Welcome, new friends, to the city of Caloren!" He laughed, to no one in particular. As he spoke, a much more light hearted side to him could be seen. "I, am Sir. Cleaves, of the Northern Slopes. I hope you will find this land to your liking." He nodded, and turned back to the bar, checking in on... everything he needed to know.

[Car'mael]

Lawrence dipped his head politely to Sir Cleaves in greeting. The man might be of the newer nobility, aka simply a man who gained power and gave himself a title, but as he had learned in history lessons in his youth, that had happened in the past, too. Many a king had been merely the leader of bandits and raiders before. If he held the peace, so be it, though. Who was he to grudge the man the opportunity? And with protection came a price. So the additional coin did not surprise him.

He was tempted to ask the man how the Northern Slopes were faring. But he opted not to interfere, nor to reveal his own noble status by speaking to the man as an equal. So he opted to finish his transaction first.

"Is that for the five pigeons, then, or the four doves with the songbird? I have a handsome little finch with a red breast she would very much enjoy," he offered, carefully turning his pole around and taking a much smaller wicker cage off the end to set it on the counter for the barkeep to look at. "A lovely morning song and easy for her to care for, at that--mere crumbs of grain from your sideboard and a small shard of bone once a month, though you shall need to find her a more suitable cage for him."

The bigger wooden cage on the bar held six pigeons, so if the bargain was kept he'd have to remove one to one of the other cages or use some string to tie its foot to his pole. The former was kinder--just tied it would be more fearful in such changing surroundings. He'd much rather transfer the bought food-birds to the cook's own cages and keep what cages he could for future sales. He knew a lady skilled at basket-weaving who he regularly traded a bird for ten new wicker and wooden cages, but he hoped not to need many. Birds only bred so fast. That was why he kept them indoors and warm and well-fed, to breed more frequently throughout the year--so he could sell at least once a week.

[Jonas Garland]

Bird song filled the air of the pub as Lugar nursed his unwanted ale. He was deep in thought as he listened to the birds. ‘I need to see this king, I need to see whether he is a man worthy to rule’ he thought. He continuously pondered about the king, and whether it was too arrogant to assume he could just walk into the palace and speak to him. He needed to know what sort of man the king was before he headed there. From the looks of it, the king was no tyrant, but did the city guard listen to him, or was he even useful as a king?

He went quiet as the bartender’s attention fluttered elsewhere and he was left alone and to himself. Lugar didn’t even stir as the birds got closer to the bar, and soon enough birdsong was all he could hear. He turned to look at the birds just for a second before looking away. “Have you considered selling them to the palace? Songbirds roosting in the palace gardens would surely be a pleasant thing to wake up to. You could increase the price just slightly and make some money for yourself.” Lugar addressed the bird keeper without actually looking at him. In truth he was still in thought.

It was then metal clunked on the floors of the pub and a military man stepped through the crowd. He was surely intimidating, but as he introduced himself, Lugar smiled just slightly. “Well, Sir Cleeves.” Lugar’s tone was one of loud authority, quite different to the tone he used to speak to anyone else. He was loud, confident and very sure of himself. “The walls are crumbling just like the bread in my pocket, the land is ravaged by devils of men, the military appears to be meagre in size and the king appears, on the outside, to be a layabout, who has taken advantage of these dark times. If these lands aren’t quite to my liking, can I bring my complaints to the king directly?!” All the while he sat with his back to the commander. He hadn’t moved from the stool.

[Scabious]

Sir Cleeves did not make any immediate gesture. He simply stared off, as though he was watching something leave. Then he turned to face Lugar, a man he didn't even know. In his earlier days, he may have rammed his fist into this man's chest, and thrown him out. But, that was long ago, and many years of training recruits, back in the days where their were more then a few handfuls recruits, had taught him patience, if not anything else. "Perhaps then, you would like to do something, eh? Take up arms? But, I see you already have." He nodded to the man's walking sticks. "The king is a troubled man, but I can't say he's a busy man. Take your complaint, if you so wish, to Krak de Nolan. It's the castle on the hill, can't miss it." By the end, Sir. Cleeves had lightened up once again, and sat down, letting his legs rest.

Edward fished out some gold from his own pocket. "If I might borrow a cage, I will get it back to you. If so, I have some more coin here for assurance. Not to worry, I'm sure the small one will do fine.." He scratched his chin, as if forgetting something. "Ah, yes, the five pigeons then. The more birds, the better." This will be the nicest thing he had done for his daughter in a weeks time, but he's done much more for his patrons then simply buying birds. As long as they spend their coin, they have a friend in Edward, and a home in "The Jester's Hood". This has been the policy of his family for ages...

[Car'mael]

Nodding his agreement at the terms, the bird-seller drew another empty cage off his pole and set it on the bar. Carefully he opened the cage of pigeons and slid a hand just inside the door. Grasping one firmly yet gently in slender fingers, he pulled it out and latched the cage back shut, then transferred it to the empty one.

"There, five pigeons and one finch redbreast," he announced even as he slung that lone occupant back onto his pole. A sweep of his hand collected all his money and snuck it into his belt-pouch. "I can return next week for the cage and to offer more for your table."

Turning to the... monk?... who had commented on the possibility of selling his birds at the king's castle, Lawrence arched a brow thoughtfully. It had been a possibility he hadn't dared entertain yet before this. Granted it was hard times and food was a luxury, meat especially so. But the problem with kings was that they did not necessarily have to pay for anything--in fact, in olden days he'd heard of kings who visited nobles they disliked and simply lived off that one's lands and resources until they were beggared. And he needed every coin he could get. Not to mention, the king had no lavish parties with feasts involving his birds, nor any need for birdsong of a more frivolous kind. As far as Wren knew, this king had no children or womenfolk who might enjoy such, anyway.

But, then again, what would it hurt to go ask? If anyone had coin, the king likely did.

"Well, my good sir, you seem to be headed that way, so I might join you in stride," he told the monk gaily. "Your idea has merit and I have yet a few birds to dare sell. Entwined, the two have potential that neither has by itself. But though I rather doubt the king would have much need for birdsong even in these dismal times, there is still good possibility he and his staff are as hungry as the rest of us."

[Scabious]

The bartender nodded to the man, letting his eyes gaze over the birds. Hopefully, bird vendors were not like millers, waiting to cheat at any chance they get. "Well, if you plan to be off, I would put some purpose to your step. There is time to see the court, but no sunlight to do anything else beforehand." Edward warned. Rooms began to fill upstairs, as a few men wanted at least some level of quite. the sun was still in the sky, and Edward doubted anyone was bedding down, but daylight was burning.

Sir. Cleeves simply sat on the bar stool, smiling ever so slightly to himself. He eventually forced himself to get up, as he had men to take care of. "Well, I'm off to the barracks." He said to Edward, if not to himself. Turning to Lugar and Wren, "I won't be the one to throw you out of the castle. Neither will the king, but the men of the court don't take well to men off the streets making their voices known. I won't ask what you hope to accomplish, monk, but I wish you well anyways. The bird fellow, I give the best of luck to!" He grinned, patting his hand on Wren's shoulder, before walking out the door, the clanks of his men walking off, with the shadows of their pikes.

[Jonas Garland]

“A king who isn’t busy?” Lugar sighed; his tone was as if all the hope in the world was swept aside. “I was right to judge him so.” Lugar muttered, though now it was under his breath and barely audible. He looked back at the knight and smiled. The walking sticks were of necessity, not by choice, but Lugar didn’t bother to correct him, instead, he let the knight talk on and then bowed his head. “Thank you for the directions. I will go as soon as possible. Maybe I can gain some ground with the king.”

Lugar turned as the bird seller spoke to him. Listening to his every word, he smiled and just nodded. Once he was done speaking, he turned away and thought for a moment. “Bird song has inspired poets, musicians and artists for countless generations, if the king needs to be inspired, and then we must grant him a chance. Perhaps your birds will do that, perhaps not. There is a chance however, for your name to be gilded in history for all of time, for inspiring the king and his empire. If the king has no money to give you, donate the birds. Think of it as an investment in your future.” Lugar smiled sincerely. He was watching the birds, thinking of the king. In these desperate times, everyone had to try their best, even if it meant sacrificing all they had. If they were ever going to survive, all would need to sacrifice. “Or don’t. It’s completely up to you.”

Rising to his feet after word from the bartender, Lugar bowed, or rather hung his head. Bowing was impossible with a back like his. “Good day then sir. Thank you for your hospitality, I bid you good day.” The walking sticks found their ground and he turned away towards the door. “Though, I will say one more thing before I go. There may come a time, when I need you all. I won’t ask for anything except your trust. When that time comes, you must make your voice known and be heard, for the good of the people, for the good of the land, and for your futures. I will do my best to restore the kingdom to its natural state. I will teach the king to be just, and rid the court of scoundrels. I will help the people where I can, and donate whatever riches I receive back into the kingdom. No luxury will ever fall upon my shoulders without it falling on everyone else. These are lofty claims I know, especially for one such as myself. But I swear on all the lives that have been lost, I’ll never stop trying until I’ve accomplished my goals.” Lugar was sincere, even if he sounded completely arrogant at points. He fully believed in his words and it showed with every word. Despite his small frame, and weak presence, his voice was strong and assertive. It was certainly clear he was going to put his all into fighting for what he believed in, even if no one else would.

[Scabious]

The bar had quieted down, most people listening to Lugar's speech. It was a small enough room so that all could hear, if they so wished. Some did find him arrogant, and others, on the other side of the spectrum, looked as though Lugar was leading a charge on the castle, and they were willing to join. Many, however, simply looked towards him, wishing him good luck, but not having much faith. Romulus looked upon the man with a disliking, to make such statements. "Who is he to talk?" He said quietly, to a hooded man next to him. "He has just arrived in the city, and he thinks that he's our savior. the king is ill, but still one of the only men qualified to take such a position. What is he planning to do, revolt?" Turning back to the bar, and mumbling to himself "I'll teach the king to be just..." mocking Lugar. He would not say these things out loud, he was not in that bad a mood, but he knew he had a right to thought. One man lifted his glass to the man, while the man next to him spat on the ground. Edward simply kept himself busy, looking down at the bar.

[Car'mael]

Wren nodded to Sir Cleaves as the man patted his shoulder and left, and slung his pole and its occupants back up onto the other one. Waving to the tavern's occupants, including the young lady he'd just met, he was puzzled by the monk's speech. The man truly was odd, by his understanding. Mad, perhaps. The crippled man did have leadership skills, though. Maybe madness was what they needed to end the current sad lethargy of the city. But would it lead to bloodshed and horror, or salvation?

Lawrence decided to wait and see, reserving judgement for now.

He moved to follow the monk, though. "Well, my actions shall depend on our reception, my dear fellow. I can hardly give away birds if they are automatically confiscated, but if I am offered respect and generous coin I will be courteous and generous in return. Currying favor might seem wisest with greater powers, but I fear I have enough pride not to bow or bend too easily to any, a stubborn trait inherited over generations. I do hope to keep my pride to leash, and hold to patience's virtue like a voluptuous maiden for now."

A couple songbirds trilled amid the cooing from the other cages. The monk's words regarding inspiration made him think, and he arched a brow at the man, an idea coming to mind. After all, there was a way to test just what the king sought right now, and what his priorities were--inspiration or desperation.

"A king is his own rule, companion mine. Perhaps he should chose his own inspiration and be left at that--be it to ear or belly as is his own preference? Such a choice says much about a man and his priorities. But that is only possible if choice is left to lowly ones who come standing at his gates. So we shall see when we arrive, then, shall we not?"

[Sunlight-]

(Forget that was there, I was hacked or something, because I never typed or posted that.)