Zion: Light of the New Moon, Ch 2.3 Shrad
Zion - Light of the New Moon Chapter 2.3
Shrad On The Road Again
It looks like Loric Kriabnish is getting the focus this time. Let's take a look at what he's up to.
Loric sat in his carriage idly running a single claw across the grain of the fine wooden meeting table he had set up within it before leaving Shrad. The table itself cost almost as much as the carriage, but he found it useful for many things. Not only would it help steady his paws while reading during travel, but it was also useful for writing, kicking his feet up, and, of course, could be lowered to bench height to become a modified bed; few other people in the caravan were able to sleep in their carriages, thus it was a luxury he fancied as unique.
"Tell me, Guthrey," he said, addressing the pine martin seated across from him, "What news from home?"
The slightly pudgy mustelid looked up at him; Guthrey had been in the wagon with the fox for almost twenty minutes, having been summoned at least five minutes before that, and it was the first time Loric had bothered speaking to him; the fox did like to keep his followers on their toes and spontaneity worked well-enough for that. "P-pardon, m'lord?"
"Home, Guthrey..." Loric repeated patiently, "How go things at home?" The fox casually pulled out tea cup and saucer, gingerly setting them in front of the messenger, who sat, fidgeting.
"Good... they-- they go well, my Lord." Guthrey noted, "The guild continues to turn a profit, and--"
"Ah yes... the 'stone masonry'..." Loric smirked as he said the word, "there's always need of 'stone masonry' in Shrad, isn't there, Guthrey?" Very few of the Kriabnish family's servants knew about the truth behind the guild, that it was, in fact, little more than a front for the less desirable activities undertaken by the clan for several generations. The majority of the short-count of servants that did know of its true activites did so because they took part in them.
"There always is, my lord, of course." the mustelid acknowledged quickly, nodding his head like the loyal fool he was. Guthrey was one of the minority of the short-count... he was one of only two servants that knew about the real activities of the Stonemason's guild but was not an actual participant. That fact alone made him incredibly enjoyable to terrorize, something Loric had made into an art form.
"Yes... yes..." the fox nodded, casually sliding a small bowl of sugar over to join the cup and saucer, "and any word on the interim guild master while I'm gone, Guthrey?" Loric added a tiny silver spoon to the bowl of sugar, handle facing the pine martin.
Guthrey's eyes were focused entirely on the sugar; Loric knew that the pine martin was aware of the time Loric had poisoned one of the Fahnmir family while they had tea; the poison had been in the sugar. The messenger paused, swallowed past his fear, and spoke up, "Your... your father, Lord Kriabnish."
"Ah...." Loric nodded his head thoughtfully. Though the thought perturbed him, he suspected that would be the case. Considering the fact that the younger fox had ousted his father from the position less than a decade earlier it only made sense that his father would step back into things once a vacuum in power was created... of course, if that was truly a concern then Loric simply would have taken care of the problem before he left. Looking across the table to Guthrey, it was obvious by his nervous twitching that the pine martin didn't realize how unconcerned Loric was, "And have any messages been sent by my Lord Father, Guthrey?"
The messenger shook his head, "No, Lord Kriabnish."
"I see... I see..." the fox nodded, sliding a small teapot over to sit beside the sugar; he watched as the mustelid went pale; obviously Guthrey had heard the story about the time Loric had switched Lady Hanlavar's tea with steeped Lilwynder Root... a sweet concoction that didn't reach full potency until it got to the imbiber's stomach and then, over the course of twenty minutes, caused their body to digest itself from the inside out.
Loric had told that tale often enough in private company that of course, everyone in the guild knew about it. The fox had taken great pains to be able to watch the extract do its work... observing the fair-furred ermine woman go through her death-throes without the benefit of abdominal muscles was... captivating. He glanced to Guthrey, who obviously had countless thoughts going through his head, "Tell me, Guthrey..." he called the mustelid's attention back to him again.
The messenger obediently met his gaze-- Loric was willing to bet that the pine martin would have been sweating if he were a human, "How do I stack in my influence within the caravan?" and, as he spoke, Loric reached forward and picked up the teapot, pouring the aromatic contents into the cup that sat in the middle of the table. Despite the movement from the carriage, the fox didn't spill a drop.
"Your men account for two of every five guards and one of every six laborers." Guthrey announced quickly, barely even having to glance at his notes. That was one thing that Loric liked about Guthrey; not only was he one of the most loyal and cowardly of the Kriabnish servants, but he also had a very keen memory. The fox was certain that all of those traits would serve him well in the coming weeks.
Smiling at the numbers, Loric considered it time to get to the point, "Tell me then, Guthrey, why it took so long to fix my wagon if one out of every six laborers in this caravan is in my family's employ?"
"Lord High Priest Armenius Tenge ordered all of the workers to attend some kind of presentation put on by the Wild Lander Guide, Nori Bahn, my lord." Guthrey fidgeted, looking into the swirling amber liquid in the cup on the table.
"And why did my guards not help then, Guthrey?" Loric asked without a pause.
"Your guards did, my Lord." the pine martin fidgeted, "They too were required to attend the training, but once it was over, the guards and laborers fixed your wagon."
"Only because I was able to secure the assistance of one of the temple's handy-men." Loric crossed his arms... but only for a moment until he motioned to the sugar, "Guthrey... one spoonful, if you please."
The mustelid managed to just barely keep his paw from shaking as he slowly did as commanded, taking a spoonful of the crystalline granules and emptying it into the drink. "Shadow Darkfang, your lordship."
"Yes... him." the fox acknowledged, "He ended up coming in handier than two laborers... we should hire him."
"He works for the temple, my Lord... one of the High Priest's guards." the pine martin explained.
"If he were that important he'd be dressed all in black and have quite a few stories he could tell of my time with the High Priest several nights back." Loric waved away the messenger's concern, "Everything can be purchased for a price, Guthrey... and if I made up my mind to take this Shadow Darkfang into my employ I'm certain that the High Priest and I could come to some... arrangement... it might even allow me to get rid of a few of my less inspired employees."
Guthrey swallowed audibly, "Was... was there anything more, my Lord?"
"Yes, Guthrey... no need to get impatient." the fox stated flatly, "a second spoonful, if you please." and he smiled as the pine martin whimpered, pouring a second spoonful into the cup, "Tell me, Guthrey... are you thirsty?" the mustelid fighting back a tear was a beautiful sight. "Never mind... be on your way." he dismissed the messenger, who practically melted out of the seat. Loric took the cup from its place on the saucer and took a long, drawn-out sip; tea flavored with fear he instilled in others was sweeter than any other.
Loric had always considered tea to be a soothing past time, and it was something he desperately needed as of late. Since the caravan's delay in the hell-hole of an underground passage plus the continued problems that plagued his carriage, the fox's mood had deteriorated; having the opportunity to enjoy some tea and listen to updates from a favored messenger helped to even him out... right until the most unpleasant sound of a fist colliding with a solar plexus followed by his door opening.
"Gaerid of the Fang..." Loric acknowledged the rottweiler as the bounty hunter took a seat across from him, "What an..." he took just a moment to consider the next word, "unexpected surprise."
"New guard?" the rottweiler inquired, all business.
"Apparently he's going to be seeking new employment after today." Loric took another sip from his cup, "Thirsty?" he inquired.
"That depends." Gaerid responded, "Is it tea, or Lilwynder?"
"If it's Lilwynder, dear Gaerid, I hardly think I'd be drinking it, do you?" Loric's smile was one of genuine humor-- there was something about the dog that never ceased to captivate the fox.
"Lilwynder only works on mortals... obviously a divine being such as yourself has nothing to fear." Gaerid responded casually, taking the cup right out of the noble's grasp. Loric was never able to tell just how much Gaerid was jesting; his voice was undecipherable. The rottweiler tilted his head back and downed the whole cup with a single swig, and returned it empty to the fox.
"Thank you for that, by the way." Loric acknowledged, "The Lilwynder has come in useful several times since."
"Supplying 'custom' orders of herbs is but one of my many talents... your Lordship." the rottweiler noted in what Loric settled on what was probably a chiding tone. It seemed that Gaerid never took rank seriously, and acknowledging the fox as a Lord was just another way of thumbing his nose at the nobility. Unlike most nobles, however, Loric found it flattering... it reminded him of himself.
The fox couldn't help but admit that there was something almost hypnotizing about the rottweiler... it was probably the same thing that almost everyone else feared. It wasn't anything specific that Loric could put a finger on, but what he did know was that the rottweiler, more than once, had been the center of attention for more than one of his night time fantasies... not that he was about to ever admit it to the bounty hunter.
"So..." the fox added after one of Gaerid's too-common silences, "Was there a purpose for your visit, or did you just want to test my guards?"
"Majh's brother is in the caravan." the rottweiler noted simply.
Loric almost cursed, but managed to compose himself, "I see." he settled on as a non-committed a response as he could manage,"And?"
"And I suspected you would like to know." the rottewiler explained, reaching across the table to pour a new cup of tea.
"So I assume you're looking for payment?" Loric questioned, licking the inside of his muzzle as he contemplated the many different things he could offer to the muscular rottweiler in exchange.
"No..." Gaerid noted, standing up as he slid to the door, "The look on your face is enough."
Loric paused at that, looking after the enigmatic rottweiler. The fox thought about the parting comment for a moment. Had he been that surprised? No... it couldn't have been. Glancing down to the cup, all of his thoughts froze as he saw, not tea, but blood. Opening the top of his kettle, the fox saw more of the same. He glanced from the kettle to the already-closed door, then back to the kettle.
"Goddess..." Loric sat back in his seat. Nothing excited him quite as much as the ever-present danger that was Gaerid of the Fang. The fox, still high from the close contact, adjusted himself through his pants, "He IS insane..." and the fox didn't bother suppressing the faint giggle that escaped him, casual, goofy grin plastered across his face. He spent the rest of the afternoon daydreaming; Loric happily drank the kettle's entire contents.