Fantasy Cinders and Ashes (Completed)

[Ezri]

“Oh, I see...” she nodded along to the Colonel’s explanation— thankfully his answer seemed genuine. And even though she didn’t think she’d make a habit of it, she was glad she asked. Roland Grufford could not be on the up and up; how did he lose and regain his whole fortune so quickly? No matter how you looked at it, there was something fishy about that...

As she was called away she hastily excused herself to Colonel Ayax and joined her lawyer. Thankfully the worst of her unpleasant feeling was gone, but Mr. Grufford looked equally if not more uncomfortable to see her. But she could keep herself together, and it was important that she did so.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Grufford.” She said, as amicable as she pleasant as she would be with any stranger and leaving it at that. It was not a pleasure at all, but she tried not to let it show on her face. Her short response was a bit of a challenge, and she wanted to pay good attention to his response.

 

[ArcticFox]

Mr Holwood excuses himself abruptly as he catches sight of someone waving him over across the room. Faced with you alone, Mr. Grufford's pallor lessens, and the jumpiness in his expression turns to a cold, calculating stare. "I take it you are not long in Cinders." His thin eyebrows lift slightly. "You were raised here, isn't that so? You were born… elsewhere, right? Outside the fold."

It is an invitation to give more information about your parents, and your background, if you wish to. However, sometimes directness, though less polite, can be more suitable and effective.

- Talk about your birth parents.
- Redirect the conversation to your inheritance stuff.
- Make up a story.
- Charm Grufford with a compliment and evade the subject.
- Try to pry out his secret.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian did not enjoy the position she had been placed in, especially now that Mr. Grufford’s demeanor took such a sharp turn. She didn’t know why he was asking these questions, but she did know that she wasn’t inclined to answer him.

But it was clear that the both of them were very aware of their mutual discomfort. She could ignore the elephant in the room, and that might be prudent... but it also wouldn’t lead to any explanation. And ignorance, as she’d been learning, could be very dangerous in a place like this.

“Is my birthplace the reason you’re so bothered, Mr. Grufford?” she asked, meeting his gaze— she might not be mincing words, but she was careful to keep her tone as level as possible. She didn’t want him to think she was intimidated, nor did she want to attract any unwanted attention from the other people attending the meeting. “Or is there something else?”

 

[ArcticFox]

It is ambiguous a phrase enough to excite curiosity. More importantly, it throws Grufford off-guard for a moment while you observe him.

"Yes, well... never mind." he says. His eyes dart to the left, and he does not meet your gaze. Whatever is off about him, he is taking great pains to conceal it. He levels you with a glassy, intense stare. You cannot quite make out its meaning. "Mr. Holwood has told me that you wished to discuss a matter of commerce? Something about your inherited property and a tithe that comes with it?" He says, redirecting the conversation in that direction. "Then I suppose I must advise." He considers. "You do have one option available to you which, perhaps, the good Mr. Holwood is not aware of or does not wish to directly communicate with you himself, for it stands… shall we say, at the edge. It is not quite overstepping the, er, boundaries which constrain us, if you take my meaning, but it is at the edge."

- Hear it out.
- You are not interesting.
- Listen only so you can learn more about him.

 

[Ezri]

"Y-yes, that's true." Vivian responded, eyes widening a little in surprise. She hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn; it was quite a bold suggestion, after all. Whatever Holwood's 'solution' was, it could not be without its dangers. Vivian already had some experience dancing at the edge of their constraints, and it was not something to attempt lightly.

But what did he know about all that, and why would he offer advice when he was acting so suspicious?

"Well... I do think it's wise to know all of one's options before making such large decisions." she concluded, nodding thoughtfully. Not that she had any intention of actually following Mr. Holwood's advice. But hearing him out might be a good insight into what he was really after.

 

[ArcticFox]

Your eyes are drawn to his tapping hand. It should be a normal nervous pattern, except that the rhythm of it is exactly the same each time, millisecond to millisecond. It is as if he is somehow stuck in an unseen song, playing out its notes again and again without end. He starts the explanation.

"Due to the current situation in Cinders, it's difficult to liquidate one's property, or move out of the town. However, there are certain persons in the city and in other places who are accustomed to… to make a complete exchange of your wealth. They accept some part of the risk of the transaction, and find another family, who would like to move to Cinders and claim a land-stake. In exchange, they give you the sum of your wealth in crowns" - that is, the currency of the city and all outer lands. This does not seem as complicated as you had thought. He holds up a cautioning finger. "This may seem simple. But there is, as with all transactions, and indeed all business, a substantial risk. And a heavy cost to conducting the exchange in this manner. It would give you your fortune much more quickly, should you choose to accept the risk. But it is not a thing to be undertaken lightly."

It would also mean that another family would undertake your contract with the demon kind, while you could be smuggled out of Cinders. Would you explore this opportunity in future?

- Yes, because it's a sensible plan.
- No, because it's wrong.
- Yes, there's nothing wrong with benefiting from a loophole.
- No, because you don't trust Grufford.

 

[Ezri]

Grufford’s mannerisms seemed more and more strange the more she observed him; these were not simply typical compulsions, she guessed. But at least one thing was clear to Vivian— she couldn’t trust Grufford as far as she could throw him.

Why anyone would choose to come to Cinders now was beyond her; if they knew what fate awaited them, no one would willingly subject themselves to the demons’ rule. Perhaps they didn’t know, she didn’t before she arrived. Even if there was a chance that that wasn’t the cade she couldn’t, in good conscience, take that risk.

“I certainly didn’t expect such a service to exist here.” Vivian said with a cold, distant smile. “For now I think I’ll explore other avenues. But thank you for the advice— I’ve learned a lot.”

 

[ArcticFox]

Grufford looks surprised, but quickly smooths his face. "Then I am afraid I cannot help you," he replies, with something like relief in his voice.

A space is clearing towards the table, and, judging from the general motion in the room, the meeting seems poised to begin. Col. Ayax rises from his place near the head of the table.

"Thank you for gathering here, and welcome-" he inclines his head at you, "to Miss Vivian Price, for joining us at Mr. Holwood's invitation."

The first topic of the day is the problem of wood-smuggling. Apparently, there is much more to the lumber tax than you knew, it being such a prized commodity. It is forbidden to cut down any of the trees of the Wood. Outside smugglers are taking advantage of the situation.

Some council members are nodding, fully engaged with Col. Ayax's speech, while others appear unsettled. Others still seem to be barely containing their boredom.

The council proposes to continue with the taxation, and to request that customs-guards be stationed around the town in addition to those already on the highways to the city. Large pieces of lumber are difficult to transport, after all, without any visible sign of their presence - there, certainly, will be a way of halting the miscreants.

Roland Grufford's behaviour during all this is puzzling. At times, he looks intently focused - at others, he looks repeatedly towards the windows and the door.

- You think he's afraid of something.
- You think he's waiting for something.
- You think he's just naturally anxious.

 

[Ezri]

Maybe, on a better day, Vivian could have been more invested in wood smuggling, and tax regulations, and that sort of thing. It was clearly an important issue, although the practical discussion was undeniably a bit dull... fortunately, or unfortunately, she'd been given something else to direct her attention to in the discussion's slow points.

Mr. Grufford was clearly preoccupied, although with what she wasn't yet sure. He could just be restless, of course, but what did he keep looking to the exits for? It was a pattern too specific not to draw her suspicions, and she found herself trying to peer out the window through her peripheral vision every now and then, on the off chance that he was looking at something in particular.

 

[ArcticFox]

Ayax places his hands on the table. "Excellent, settled, would you agree?" The gentry give murmurs of assent, and the conversation moves on.

"Now, we come to the next order of business." Col. Ayax continues. The proceedings last for an hour, as the gentry talk about various topics.

When the meeting is terminated, everyone gathers to leave the town hall, but Grufford's odd behaviour lies heavy on your mind.

Only Col. Ayax is still present in the hall when you move to leave. Here is the chance to say something about Grufford's odd behaviour. But you might risk alienating yourself, or causing offence. Pressing too far on forbidden topics also can result in loss of spina.

- Talk directly.
- Talk carefully.
- Don't mention it.

 

[Ezri]

The adjournment of the meeting felt like a wave of relief, although it hadn’t actually lasted as long as it had seemed to Vivian. She was glad to be able to stretch her legs and take her leave, but that man’s behavior still nagged at her even now.

As far as she could tell, most people here weren’t outwardly concerned with Grufford’s behavior. Her lawyer certainly wasn’t. And Colonel Ayax was a careful man; he had probably said as much as he was willing to before. Harping on the matter might not reflect well on her. The most she felt she could do was comment more generally and see if he would mention Grufford himself. Although she doubted he would.

“I’m glad the meeting seemed to go rather smoothly.” She said, slowing in her path towards the door. “It’s assuring to know that the council members are so engaged.”

 

[ArcticFox]

"We do our best." Colonel says, then bids you good night.

Your path takes you again around the curve of the road that leads to the Wood.

You halt. The memory of that place washes over you, pungent like the scent of fine spices from afar, and curious. If you wish to bargain with the Fae, or to find out more information about the magic that holds all of you in Cinders, this would be an opportunity to do so.

Although one that always bears the weight of great risk with it. The Wood is dangerous… And, at the same time, you have already faced its darkness, and survived. Surely, you can do so once more, if it is your desire.

- Enter the Wood.
- Don't enter.

 

[Ezri]

Entering the woods was certainly tempting, and there were many things that she wanted to know about the Woods and those who resided in it. Vivian almost entered without a thought, driven by morbid curiosity, but thankfully she was rational enough to hesitate, looking into the trees with pursed lips.

Going into The Wood had not ended well for her before. She had survived her encounter with the cat, yes, but not without a great cost. That debt was still hanging over her, and the last thing she wanted to do was dig that hole even deeper. Even if she wanted to find Arkana and negotiate, Vivian had no bargaining power; she had nothing else to offer them. Not yet, anyway.

With a derisive turn of her head, Vivian kept walking. If she was going to venture back into The Wood, she shouldn't do it on a whim. Now was not the right time.

 

[ArcticFox]

You don't go into the Wood, but, at the edge of the Town Hall, you notice that someone is following you.

It is a petulant, dishevelled figure dressed in threadbare grey: Melantho Farrier. She looks mostly normal, but an air of otherness around her and a few twigs in her hair reveal the truth: she has been in the Wood. Melantho's stare is glassy - you have the uneasy sensation that she is looking through you, through flesh and sinew and thought and bone.

A breeze stirs, and you hear the creaking of branches, though there are no trees in this part of the square.

"You have met them," she says simply, and it is unequivocally clear from the jolt of your heart that she is referring to the Fae. "Do not pretend that it isn't so."

Talking like this, she is a liability - evidently unable to restrain her speech and manner - if she should expose your transgression to the other gentry, you would lose spina.

And, evidently, she has more information than you on the nature of the Wood and those that dwell therein.

- Interrogate her.
- Pretend you don't know anything.
- Coerce her into sharing more.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian stared at Melantho with wide eyes— she knew that she wasn’t the only one to visit The Wood, of course, but she hadn’t expected to be confronted. Certainly not here. And she wouldn’t have expected it to be Melantho, either; perhaps this was what Jocasta was so indignant about?

Regardless, she had to think fast. If her connection to the Fae got out to the public, she would lose a lot of the respect she’d been carefully protecting. Despite nervous ache in her chest, she gave Melantho a placating smile.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Melantho.” She said, stepping closer so she could keep her volume reasonably low. Denying it would probably only upset her, but she still wanted to choose her words carefully. “Is there something you’d like to discuss? I’d be happy to, of course. Perhaps we could sit down over tea and share stories.”

 

[ArcticFox]

She looks surprised for a moment, and then crosses her arms more tightly around herself. "We shouldn't," she says. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrow. "I'm afraid I don't have anything to talk about," she says shortly. Her tone is really at the edge of civility, or a little beyond. Small wonder that Jocasta took offence. "I suggest you keep to your business, and I to mine, and we say nothing more of this."

This is as good as it's going to get, it seems. Melantho turns and departs, without another word.

--

A couple of days pass and a bright and clear morning dawns. The breeze is apple-scented. When you head out for a morning stroll you come upon a group of gentry in dog-carts, with hampers, blankets, and all the trappings of a picnic. The host, a cheerful person you vaguely recognise from the council meeting, waves to you as you pass. "Oh, Miss Price! Pray join us - we are having a picnic on the far hill. It would be a splendid thing if you would join us." There is, you see, some space in one of the dog-carts.

With all the well-bred faces turned expectantly towards you, the pressure to join is high. But it is a gorgeous day, and picnicking may, perhaps, lessen the strain of all that is on your plate at the moment.

- Join them.
- Don't join.

 

[Ezri]

You’re the one who brought it up, Vivian thought, but she supposed it wasn’t worth arguing.

A few days later Vivian was in higher spirits, although with the questions piling up as they had been she was still quite distracted. She waved back to the carts without a second thought, although she hadn’t expected to be invited along.

If they were from the council, it would be advantageous to make a good impression... but a little harmless relaxation might also do her some good. She approached brightly; it hadn’t taken much to convince herself. “Oh, thank you! That sounds lovely.”

 

[ArcticFox]

The dog-carts leave the main road some ways out of town, and head up the far hill, close to the wilds. It gives a kind of thrill to most of the gentry, to picnic within plain view of those noxious, demon-ridden lands. The far hill, a picturesque prospect, makes riding in a trap rough work, and the party continues up it on foot. The servants jump down from their posts on the carts and move smartly, setting up blankets and trays of food, while the gentry mill around elegantly, taking in the view.

Alcindor is here, admiring the view a little ways off, eyes alight. On your left, Danaer is helping one of the servants take out a crystal plate from a hamper. The tables and cloths are laid out, with plates of viands, cheeses, and cakes - there are bowls of fresh berries as well. The sunlight warms you. Perhaps, this won't be so bad.

Jocasta is present as well - she must have arrived in the dog-cart behind you, so that you missed her ostentatious presence. She looks a little too pleased to see you.

- You are glad to see Alcindor.
- You are glad to see Danaer.
- You are not happy to see any of these people.
- You wish Wren was here.
- You wish Rowan was here.
- You've been looking forward to confronting Jocasta.

 

[Ezri]

The novelty of being so close to the wilds was something Vivian enjoyed less than her peers, perhaps, but the view was undeniably pretty. She took a deep breath, already feeling a little lighter with the sun on her skin. But seeing Jocasta, Vivian whipped around, scanning the landscape-- she needed to find someone more enjoyable to talk with before she was caught alone with her. Jocasta looking that pleased was never a good sign, but especially not after how their last interaction had gone.

Wren was not here, she noticed immediately; she had a feeling he wouldn't enjoy this sort of frivolous excursion anyway. Although there was no telling with him. But Danaer was here, and he might not be bad company. It had been quite a while since she'd seen Alcindor as well... but she didn't want to dawdle for too long. Pushed along by the pressure to make a decision she moved to the tables to help the servants and Danaer with some of the larger pieces as well.

 

[ArcticFox]

Wren is, most likely, in that dank cave of a library, meddling with things he should not. You make eye contact with his cousin, however, and he smiles politely, waiting for you to come over.

"Tut tut, coming through," your host says, waving through one of the servants with a heavy platter. You get turned around between the two, and awkwardly shuffle back. The moment has drawn attention, however.

Before you can reach Danaer, Jocasta, flanked by two cronies, intercepts you.

"Are you feeling quite recovered, Miss?" she inquires in saccharine tones. A glance at her face reveals an unpleasant smirk.

The sycophant on her right plays her part perfectly, piping in with, "Oh, has Miss Price been unwell?"

"That is one explanation," Jocasta says in a voice that carries, eyes never leaving your face. "I can think of no other reason for returning from the Wood late at night."

A hush settles on the company, then people look away, pretending not to have heard. You can feel the strain of twenty-four pairs of ears listening acutely for your next words. Jocasta could cause real problems for you if she continues in this vein. If you get the reputation for delving into woodward things, you could lose spina.

- Call her out on a duel for your honour.
- Grit your teeth and let it go.
- Deliver a sugar-coated insult in return.
- Make a conciliatory comment.

 

[Ezri]

A string of curses ran through Vivian's mind as Jocasta and her little lackeys approached; thankfully she was already prepared to hear something unpleasant, otherwise Jocasta's words might have caught her far too off guard. How did she know? Did she even truly know, or was she just making a scene? Vivian supposed it didn't matter -- she took a breath and faced Jocasta, proudly meeting her stare. It was even more important, now that they had an audience, that she didn't let herself be pushed around.

"Now, I know you're unhappy with me after our little chat the other day. I apologize if I struck a nerve. But making baseless accusations is just beyond the pale, don't you think?" she ended with a sigh, as if she were already bored of the conversation, and she turned back towards her original destination. It was a bit of a gamble to call her bluff, but the other gentry must know how vindictive Jocasta could be-- it should be quite believable that she would target someone unfairly over some perceived slight. "I'm sorry that I don't have time to entertain you today, but if you'll excuse me, I was hoping to help with the tables."

 

[ArcticFox]

Jocasta's cheeks turn crimson, and she falls still. "I cannot believe you would impugn me in such a way," she says stiffly, but apparently, the trap worked.

The dispute has made things uncomfortable. Jocasta stalks off in a huff, and is joined by several of her cohorts. They take a close turn around the picnic blankets, muttering vehemently and shooting you dark looks.

Dark clouds move in swiftly, heavy with rain - thunder rolls ominously above the hills, heralding a big storm. "I do not quite like the look of that," one lady says, frowning. The shower hits, and the well-bred atmosphere dissipates into giggles and shrieks. The picnic is bundled away, and there is a mad dash for the dog-carts, which quickly fill. Those left behind scramble for cover at the bottom of the hill.

Luckily, you have your umbrella. But it is a long trek down the hill and to shelter. There are a few trees downhill and you are forced to race towards them with the remaining gentry.

- You look for Alcindor.
- Danaer.
- A council member.
- No one.

 

[Ezri]

Her ploy worked even better than expected— for a moment Vivian almost felt a bit guilty, until she remembered that Jocasta had been effectively trying to get her outcasted, or worse. In any case, she hoped they wouldn’t be getting into more arguments any time soon.

Unfortunately the picnic was not given the chance to recover, and umbrella in hand Vivian was forced to look for refuge along with everyone else. It wasn’t as though she could really be picky in this situation, and Danaer might have gotten on a cart while he had the chance, but she glanced around for him anyway.

 

[ArcticFox]

Danaer catches your eye, and you both scurry for cover beneath the apple trees at the base of the hill. You wait for a lull in the storm.

"This is not so surprising," Danaer says dryly. "I had heard that almost every time the Everidges plan a picnic, it rains. It is almost as if they had planned it."

Soon, there's a pause in the rain, and you both dash down towards town. Most of the other gentry have already gone ahead - you can see them down the road, their garments flapping in the wind.

You take a shortcut down the hill, towards the wilds. Steam from the rain has caused a greenish vapour to arise, which shrouds them, lending them a funereal glow.

As you round the bend, you come upon a group of thralls. There are more than you've ever seen at one time - twelve or thirteen in all, there must be. Their greyish countenances are intent upon a spot on the ground, and in their hands are shovels and picks. There is no demon, no palanquin, no sharp, spiked carriage with them. They are out demonless. You've never seen this before, never witnessed the grey pall of the Fallen without their overlords.

A few of them are holding shovels but, apparently, are doing little with them - they appear to be conferring, heads together. They're up to something.

You have never seen a demon walking on their own two feet in town - always, they are carried in bath-chairs or vehicles - always, they have the Fallen with them. Perhaps they had their own restrictions as well. The thralls appear to have finished their wordless conferring, and are now moving slowly towards you. There is a menacing air about them.

You exchange a glance with Danaer. His face mirrors your unease.

- Attempt to fight them.
- Attempt to question them.
- Observe them.
- Abandon Danaer and run for it.
- Offer them spina.

 

[Ezri]

As much of a damper as it had put on the outing, only dealing with the rain would have been far preferable to getting by these thralls. Picnicking by the wilds was all harmless fun until something like this happened... the Everidges could not be worse at planning parties.

Although, despite the inherent danger, this was a peculiar scene that they had stumbled on. Danaer looked on edge, as he should, and Vivian couldn’t disagree with that sentiment... but what was the best plan of action here? They did seem frightening, but did they want something? She watched them, eyeing their gait and the tools in their hands— maybe there was something she could glean from this.