Blood Money - Linus Lyffre

Grey

Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
The wind is low and cold, the skies threaten the first of many Autumn rains; the yard smells of coal-smoke, bread, and horses as the guards half-arse their drills. Had you not turned the corner they'd not doubt still be dicing, but for now the illusion of honest work is about them. Father should've known better than to hire men of such base and honourless ilk to stand sentinel for the manor, yet here we are. Of course, you're expected at the gatehouse sooner rather than later to appraise some steel - whether you hurry on, or tarry and teach some of these men a lesson is at your discretion.
 
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Appraising steel was always a boring task, and there's always time enough for a lesson.


Linus walks towards the guards, calling out to them: "Aye there, guards, a word!"
 
The men reluctantly put up their weapons and slouch over. There's seven of them, and one of them a bit younger than you who looks a bit like he doesn't wholly approve of their attitude but wants to be one of the men.
 
Linus nods at the younger boy. "House Lyffre prefers its guards as sharp and strong as its steel. To keep that edge, we expect you to train to your fullest." Turning slightly, he points to one of the older men present, "You there. Draw your sword and show me your worth." With that, Linus draws his own rapier.
 
Smirking, but not quite insubordinate, the man draws a heavy cudgel with an iron band from his belt. No sword, it seems. He takes a fluid stance, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet, not standing too still nor in one place. Seemingly he awaits your move.
 
Linus moves deftly towards the man's armed side, keeping his distance and aiming the tip of the blade at his hand in an attempt to contact and leverage the cudgel from the man's hand.
 
The move is near perfect, like the woodcuts in Vermeier's fechtbuch. He expects a blow and tries to dodge, but it only gives you more leverage and the cudgel goes twirling to the dirt.
 
Linus eyes his "opponent" to see how he'll reply. He holds his stance even, ready to dip out of the way or strike again, still an arm and blade's length or so from the man.
 
The man's face reddens with shame and anger, and his breathing is heavier. He bows, stiffly.


"Well fought, sir." He says, and steps aside to pick up his club.
 
Linus glances over the men in half a second and decides his display has done the trick.


"Take your drills seriously, men, and stay sharp. We never know when we'll have need of our skill."


With that, Linus hurries along toward the gatehouse.
 
You can feel some of the men burning your back with their stares as you walk away, but you fancy you made an impression on the young lad.


The guards at the gatehouse are marginally better, standing to attention. You can hear the trader grumbling as you approach, his back to you as he addresses a guard.


"...to keep me waiting like this! I demand, young man, to see your Lord at once! Or your captain! I have never been so disrespected..."
 
"Oh... good... a trader... doesn't father have aids for this sort of thing? It's absolutely something I should be dealing with..." Linus thought.


"Good day, good sir," Linus calls to him, "The Lord of the manor sends his apologies and his son to see to the steel. There was some confusion. We, that is, House Lyffre prays you will forgive the delay?" "...and probably at a considerable mark up." Inwardly, he rolled his eyes but to the disgruntled merchant, he was all smiles and warmth. He extended his arms in both welcome and apology.
 
The man turns, seems taken aback, and then his expression fixes somewhere between respect and avarice.


"Ah, my lord, I am most honoured that you should take the time to inspect my wares from your busy schedule. No doubt a diligent young master such as yourself has no shortage of pressing matters to which he must attend."
 
The thought crosses Linus's mind upon seeing the merchant's face: "I wonder how much extra father would be all right with my paying... a quarter, half? None... no extra sounds about right for father... ... ... so a quarter then."


"Aye, and it was such other pressing matters that caused the earlier confusion. In any case, I am here now: might I see the steel?"
 
"As you will, milord." The trader says, gruffly, and gestures at the cart.


Hm. You have to admit, this looks promising - quite a lot under the sheet protecting it from wind and rain.

Please to be rolling Intuition/Commerce to assess the value of the steel.
 
Inspecting the steel, Linus pulls up the sheet where it's loose and walks around the cart. He picks up a couple blocks here and there checking if they seem to be of equal weight, etc. All largely modeled off things he's seen others do before yet never really paid too much attention to. And turns to the merchant with his appraisal.

Heh... seeing as I have no Commerce and 2 Intuition... I suddenly feel slightly bad for Linus as I go to make this roll


[dice]370[/dice]
 
Neatly stacked, regular ingots, nice and high. Yes, this looks excellent. On the one hand, it might have been a misuse of your time, but on the other, if this steel is forged into weapons for the guard and family the quality will be something to boast about.


The trader eyes you suspiciously. He might be onto your lack of acumen in this regard.
 
Doing up some quick sums in his head, Linus settles on a reasonable price, quarters it, and triples it, expecting the usual bartering. Though he was more inclined to offer what he thought something was worth upfront, it was a practice his father didn't care for.


"I should say we would be prepared to offer you 7 crowns and 5 sceptres for the lot, unless you disagree..." He let his voice falter and flag at the end to invite the bartering.
 
The trader rubs his chin thoughtfully, and shakes his head.


"I'm sorry milord, but for this much good steel I cannot accept less than eight crowns."
 
"Eight crowns... less than I'd have offered." Linus thinks to himself.


"Then... hmm... well, enough, call it 8 crowns with apologies for the delay then." Linus extends his hand to shake on the deal.
 
He shakes your hand, grinning in a manner that makes you ill at ease.


"Very good, sir, very good. Would you need or want anything else before I haul this inside?"


Well, at least this is your duty discharged for the time being.
 
"...need or want anything else..." Much actually... but nothing you can help with, Linus thought. He motioned to the guards, "Men, one or two of you assist the merchant with his wares."


Back to the manor to tell father, he supposes though he has a slight itch for practice or perhaps it was just the itch of discomfort from the merchant's grin... "Noble work" seems to never be done... and never be fun. Back up to the manor, it was.
 
You pass some household staff and guards on your way back, all silent and respectful, and busy for the most part.


Garland, your father's footman, is in the foyer berating a maidservant when you enter - something about missing silverware.
 
Technically, father should be dealing with this, quietly and privately, but then father wouldn't... If the past were any indication, Garland would berate her, decide for himself her guilt or innocence, and then recommend letting her go to father in the former case or pretend the whole thing hadn't happened (if he could) in the latter.


If he intervened, though technically a breach of house protocol, he might gain her at least more honest justice.


"Hail, Garland, what matter is this?"
 
He jumps, but then seems almost to dismiss you - just indispensable enough to the household, and he's been here since you were born.


"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Master Linus." Garland explains. "The girl merely misplaced a setting of cutlery. Didn't you?" He says sharply, turning to the girl, who flinches and nods mutely.
 
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