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The Story so Far; To be continued
Topic Started: Oct 5 2015, 12:19 PM (52 Views)
13Ghosts
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"At first, I thought I was coming upon a castle city. Soaring ramparts touching the sky and lined with angels and demons holding house sigels was all I could see over the horizon. I soon after realized that the fortification I had marveled over was not built from necessity. No. It was built from pure vanity. Tall smooth walls that gleamed with their alabaster coat. Frilled and plumed guards toted around their ornate halberds and pikes. The city, in fact, was not even built around this castle! No! The castle was built well after the city's erection and well and away from what one might consider to be low town."

The aged merchant rattled a bit as he breathed deeply and found himself a spot in a velvet covered chair.

"You might as well sit down." He mumbled, more to himself than to the young man he was talking to, "the stories of the Weston's vanities run on longer than the Golden Trail."

From his seat the old merchant tipped an apothecary flask to drip a few drops of a whitish fluid into a glass of water before taking a deep drink and a slow breath as his small audience found a seat in the couch opposite to him.

"First of all, did you know the Weston's last name used to be an old elvish word that roughly translated to peaceful settler? They had it changed by the emperor because they believed the west belonged to them. Can you believe that?"

He kept talking as a slight servant came in to stoke the hearth and see to the many lanterns about the large study the two men were situated in.

"I wonder what they'll change their name to now! They've been buttering up some fat noble in the north! The wilds, unclaimed land, the Westons want it. As much as they can get their greedy hands on! But they only have one problem. They've got but one daughter. Sir Weston the 5th has had his wife push out 4 sons, all of them big and strong in their own right, and good sons too, but marriage is always easier and cheaper than war as we all know."

There was a long pause as the merchant quietly looked into the slowly burning hearth before looking back at the man opposite of him and smiling. "Anyways, I'm tired and we have a good long week for me to share everything you want to know. You'll find your retiring room has been furnished and your belongings attended to. We might start again sometime after tomorrows formalities."



brought to you by Dia's boring class time typed on a shitty cell phone, I apologize for... well probably everything



"That?" Asked the aged merchant who had finally introduced himself as Geralt. "That was only a small taste of what is yet to come my lad! There's a customary two week feast at the castle preempting every wedding! The first day of celebration has begun. The prince will be here soon to seal the marriage and with it the Weston's position in the North." Geralt smiled, his blushing cheeks wrinkling under his brightens eyes, the drink had inflated his mood. "Most people outside the castle don't get to come but I've been a road manager for the Weston's for many winters now, and you get special permissions as per my apprentice!! Anyways, you wanted more lessons didn't you?"

He leaned back into the heavily cushioned coach seat as he breathed a sigh. "Hmmm." Scratching his scraggly bear he slowly started to get his tipsy thoughts together. "Well, I told you they only have one daughter and four sons." He eyed the young apprentice with a smile. "But rumour has it, their daughter isn't the most lady like princess you ever did see! See Their sons are big and strong and well versed in war and politics, but they've no wars to fight! So a few of the sons seem to have taken to teaching their little sister how to use a blade! Guess she's gotten pretty good with it to, I fear for her husband's hands... Or maybe his head!" Garalt's head flopped back and he belted out a raucous laugh at his own joke which devolved into a small coughing fit which he sated with more wine.

"Ahh~ I used to be pretty good with a blade myself you know, Used to have to peddle my loads between towns all by myself I did! Once fought off four bandits with a back pack full of pots without breaking a single one!" Geralt hopped side to side in his seat making flourished fencing movements and strange sounds to represent swords swooshing and people groaning in pain.

He settled back down with a chuckle and continued. "Ah, but bored sons of a rich family tend to travel. The oldest of the family has been many places around the world, all over the Western Empire and many places in the East. To Mount Nimro and even tried to find the library of Bletherad! A very well cultured man, he's done well for himself, done his best to avoid following to close in his father's vain and nearly tyrannical foot steps." Geralt's eyes twitched slightly as he brought his head down and looked out the curtained windows of the coach. "This information is private you understand my boy, people are not to know the things I am telling you. But a man of my age and my experience, we get to know things, sometimes dangerous things and it pays to know them as well as it pays to forget them sometimes."

With a slightly more serious expression the old merchant settled into his seat and gave the young man a serious once over for the first time. "Now here's where it gets interesting, The eldest son has been away for quite a while now. Him and his father never quite saw eyes to eye it seems, at least over the last several years. There's rumours of espionage and intrigue to be taking place around these parts in the next few days. You wold do well to keep your change small and your clothing dark if you catch my drift. The eldest son, who's name is Kayleb by the by, is coming back. Freshly returning from his extended tour in the North. Bringing word of all the land at stake and anything that may be residing there. Yet I've received no word of fanfare, celebration or parade. This might not sound like much but in this city, with this family, it is an ill omen my boy. A very bad fortnight will more than likely befall us shortly."

The coach came to a gradual stop outside of Geralt's humble mansion. A small wood and stone construction fenced in by a small stone perimeter wall and forged brass gates. It stood two stories tall and looked quite warm and cozy with the chimney running up the middle of the fairly small second floor which was more of a single room mounted on top of the house. The cell access was indoors and the front door was a stylish doube door but still practical.

Garalt hopped out of the coach tapping his polished cane on the cobble stone and making sure his dressy coat was not still on the coach before handing out a generous payment for the coach ride with a small wink.

"The second son." He continued as the pair made their way inside. "Is much less interesting, He just sort of sits around at home, wear pretty hats and makes his servants lose to him in duels to make him feel better about himself. He has an ego right up to standards with the Weston's tradition and I honestly hope he chokes on one of those exotic fruits he loves so much." With a slight groan Geralt opens the front door and strolls inside and turns with a slight smile. "The third son, I'm actually not sure to be honest with you, he's present at most castle activities but absent at many others. The activities he does come to he keeps to him self and almost always retires early." The Greying man shrugs and hands off his dress clothes to his servant as another one brings him his house coat. "I often hear rumors he is into the occult and draws magical symbols in the dungeons at all hours of the night but such is high likely just hear say or pure gossip and should not be taken to hand."

A small smile appeared across the old man's lips as he settled down into his favorite chair. "And the youngest and most recent child? By far the most interesting in my opinion. He's missing! Gone! 4 years ago at the pry age of ten! Just up and vanished! No one knows what happened to him. Some say his sneaky elder brother used him in some alchemist experiment that went wrong!... Or right.Horse shit in my opinion, some say he met an untimely end at the hands of sickness or combat training and the family refuses to admit it. Similarly with a kidnapping. But the most widely accepted story is the boy ran away. Of coarse that makes sense but, why? Where? How? With whom? The eldest brother maybe? Ran away on his own?" Geralt waved off his own ramblings and chuckled. "I apologize, there's not much for an old retired man of my profession to do in a town such as this but talk to people and hear stories. Of coarse think up a few of my own."

The man chuckled to himself and dosed out his nightly medicine as he talked. "But enough of these stories, you have business to attend to in but a few days and we have much to cover that actually pertains to your job. There will be much time for non sense when the money is already made." He flashed a broad smile and downed his drink. "Now quickly before my medicine takes hold!"



"Now as I'm sure you're astutely aware, Arcadia and the surrounding Tarldet Plains have an unusually high amount of Orcs and Goblins in society. About a 3:1 ratio of humans to orcs and goblins actually!" Geralt sat up on top of his second story room on a small veranda that over looked the middle class neighborhood he resided in. His apprentice 'Meeson' was currently working his way up the awkward ladder, stair contraption that was constructed to get Garalt up here. The old Merchant chuckled as he lowered himself into a small suspended chair.

"The reason for that is a driving factor in many people's minds around here so I feel it's important to know. See waaaay back when, about a thousand years ago now. Tarldet was entirely over run with hoards of orcs and goblins, all of them about as civilized as pack of wild dogs! The Weston family house, little more than a half baked warlord at the time, took it as an undertaking to bring civilization to this land!" Geralt looked over at the now seated Meeson with a smirk. "And we both know what that means."

"The glory was great, the victories far and wide, the skill and resolve of the Arcadian army was matched by none! The entire Western Empire, as it was forming at the time, was quite literally in awe at the brutal effectiveness of the Arcadian army. Especial our cavalry, aye they were a force to be reckoned with, we built a wall between us and what is now the Old Kingdom Frontier. Back then it was nothing but uglies, orcs, the occasional giant or troll, Great Worms of Taught... All manner of nasties! Now in all the time that wall stood as the only line of defense between us and that untamed frontier. Nothing ever got through. Now if that's not something to hold pride in, I don't know what is. Now here's the point of this little story. It's been nearly two hundred years since the last decent fight any of our men have seen, their blades are dull and their experience thin. The wall is unmanned and our Castles are decorations. Son they're all bark and no bite, a washed up has been. A great memory of a time long ago."

Geralt snapped his fingers with a smile. "But no one around here thinks that, they still believe we are a great and militarily powerful region and that! Is why everyone around here holds their heads so damn high when the only thing we should be proud of is that fact that the Tarldet Plains have never once had any form of insurrection from any source. Almost every house in Tarldet is vehemently loyal to the regional house and to the emperor." Geralt took a long pause to look over the town gearing up for a massive parade in honour of the wedding celebration. There were parades nearly every month here for one reason or another. People were always willing to get stupid drunk at the drop of a hat, even if they had to drop it themselves.

The aged man found himself pausing just a bit too long in a very comfortable swing chair and dozed off silently, leaving Meeson to gaze over the city himself before quietly retreating back inside to study himself.



"I said when pigs fly my boy!" The blush has returned to Geralt's nose and cheeks as yet another day's festivities had left him more than a little tipsy. The young apprentice started trying to defend himself. "But I never even said wh-"

Gertalt belted out a lough that was probably heard still at the Weston's castle. "I was born at night Meeson! But not last night! I know exactly who you're talking about!" Taking a deep breath and a swig of smuggled wine Geralt smiled cherrily. "She's pretty easy on the eyes though, I'll give ya that! And hey! She's about your age! Ya gotta lot in common goin for ya Meeson!" He threw his arms open wide and resisted the urge to break down laughing for just a second. "Maybe you should propose to the princess!" Geralt began rolling around in his seat as Meeson began to realize why his master was laughing quite so hard.

Wearing the finest silk clothing money could buy and wielding a beautiful Hawthorn lute. Mara Weston was certainly a sight to behold, and that was only if you had caught a still frame of the girl. She moved with such graceful flowing movement yet strong martial poise was also in everything she did.

"You know!' Coughing Geralt, picking his bleary eyed self off the seat as he wiped his eyes. "Her name is Mara. A goddess from an ancient pantheon know as 'mother of the universe, fertility goddess and goddess of love'." Geralt took another deep breath to stead himself. "I guess they named her well. Though they probably did so based on the fact that she is their only daughter!" Geralt nearly fell over forwards as the coach came to a sudden stop. He gathered himself briefly before stepping down from the coach as he opened the door.

The old merchant found himself face to face with a royal barded horse as he straightened out his coat. Growing a confused look he slowly looked up from the nose directly in his face and straight up into the eyes of Drake Weston. His helmet was heavily stylized to represent his title in combat as a rather near unstoppable dragon, yet still very practical. His breastplate was inlaid with titanium designs of a rampant dragon head and his hand rested calmly on the pommel of his heavy cavalry blade. Geralt found himself staring at the prince and heir until the man spoke in a soft but authoritative tone. "Are you lost my friend?" Snapping out of his drunken stupor Geralt immediately bowed low from the waist and begged the prince's forgiveness.

Drake chuckled to himself as he sat up straight on his horse. "Your act is forgiven, Garalt, master of coin in Arcadia." Drake slumped slightly back to a comfortable position. "Now would you please have your driver stand and move about his way? I appreciate the formality but..." He gestured around. "You've stopped in the middle of my road and held up my grand parade." The prince smiled as he looked down at the drunk merchant, he'd been gone a number of years but he never forgot a friend. In mention of his 'grand parade' he looked behind him to make sure his small procession of a dozen men and a horse carrying a blinded and bound man were still in order.

The castle had arranged no parade for the heir to the throne, but the people of Arcadia loved Drake as much they could a man with little power nor presence. They offered him flowers and hand crafted gifts as he moved through town, hot food and treats often pressed into his hands. A small flock of folk had gathered around the merchant and the prince of gleeful children and grateful common people.

Geralt ushered his driver up. "Come, come! The man can't go anywhere with us in the middle of the road! Come come!" Garalt tugged on the man's collar as he reluctantly got up, keeping his eyes lowered and his head bowed the coach diver quickly scooted the vehicle out of the way. The coach driver was much more used to the other members of the Weston family.

The old Merchant and the Prince exchanged a coded hand wave as Geralt climbed back into his coach. A somewhat more sober man now, he looked across at Meeson and breathed deeply. "We've much work to do my boy. Much work to do indeed."
Edited by 13Ghosts, Oct 11 2015, 11:24 AM.
Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change

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