Jashen sat shuffling papers around at Crispian's workspace, Seneschal's badge on. The single sword at his left hip felt unbalanced, almost as bad as the sombre expression he wore. League members had been plentiful tonight, and some almost caught a slip or two, but he made it through just fine.


Rasputyn slid through the door, and without a pause, greeted him, "Jashen, Cris not back yet?" The taller Briton, as dark as Jashen was fair, set on the table's edge. "There news." He flicked a dagger from nowhere and twirled it against his hand.


"What news?" Jashen said, almost eager for ANYTHING to break the monotony. He leaned forward on his elbows. "C'mon Rasp, give, what?"


Rasputyn slowly smiled, a crooked infiltrator type smile. "Carrington Whitethorne is free."


Jashen's draw dropped slightly open. "Well, for all of the...you mean...well, Morgana's scared tits! We've got to let Crisp know!"

He was half to the door when he stopped. "But he's snooping at D'Vena's by now."


Rasputyn laughed a dry, wicked laugh. "An armsman, snoop? And I was surpised when that wench bowed even to the king!" He laughed louder at that.

 

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As Lord Benowyc waited, he and his men became increasingly agitated. It had been two hours in the described pub, and this Whitethorne had not arrived.


Angrily, the keep lord stormed from the place with his entourage and rode off, cursing the name Whitethorn, and a large mouse lugging an increasingly heavy-seeming ring stepped from the shaddows with a disappointed look on his face.


Pausing to rub his whiskers, he rolled the ring slowly back and forth for a moment and looked about at the humans paying him no mind. At last he vanished into the shadows to plan his next moves....

The wooden training dummy was clackering to the empty room as a furry of blows landed on it. The mouse had eliminated conditioned duality and was at one with the universe... he was one with the training... one with his blows... one with his paws. He was in the m'fn goove...


Speed built as his concentration deepened, and as sweat poured from his whiskers he was interrupted... A wooden peg had been broken into splinters, ending his training for the day.


With a bow, the mouse left the training room and returned to his meditations

Back up to the top with you.

Slipping down the quiet corridor, Crispian paused outside an ornate door, looking about carefully. A slick of cold sweat had formed from nerves and he dearly wished there was someone to just hit like an Armsman ought to. Carefully, he lifted the latch and slipped inside the chamber.


The dim light filtering into the room revealed few details, but enough. There was a large writing stand to one side, a high stool behind it. A wide, ornate table dominated the center of the small chamber, parchment, quills and ink pots neatly spaced on it surface. And on a side board stood a solid bookstand, with ornate brass woodwork.


Crispian lit a candle from flint and steel and moved quietly to the bookstand. A wide hinge was at the back and he carefully lifted the top, swallowing his fear in a loud gulp.


Inside there were parchments, rolled and tied with silk of different colors. Two stood out, as their ribbons were in the colors of the Order of the Red Lions! Carefully, he lifted them and read. His lips moved as he puzzled out some of the words soundings, although the meaning came clear through to him.


His tanned face paled as he read down each scroll. Re-rolling and tying the two, he moved to a third, bound in the vermillion reserved for Church Hierarchs. The stunned feeling he had was slowly replaced with near gut-wrenching naseau.


With a growing feeling of dread, he continued, reading two more scrolls, each increasing the sinking feeling in his stomach. As he replaced the fifth scroll and lowered the lid of the bookstand, there was a sound behind him.


He whirled to see the steward standing at the door, saffron night shift hanging to the ground. "Here now! What are you doing in the Lady's study, boy?" he snapped, his voice high with tension and irritation.


Crispian's mind raced, for to be caught here could be death! Or worse! His heart pounded and he could feel the viens in his neck pulsing. He treid running his tongue over his lips to wet them, but it was drier than an Avalonian's wit.


"Well, don't just gawk at me, boy, speak up! Have an answer!" The steward stalked his way across the room, and stood within inches of Crispian's face, brown eyes boring into Crispian's grays.


"I uh was seeking um YOU!" he grabbed on a sudden thought, praying this would not cost him more than the night already had. "I have needs to depart suddenly and wished not to disturb the lady, but ah..." His thoughts froze, panic nibbling at terror. Damn these politics! Damn Arguyle for inspiring a sense of loyalty! And Damn Moryan for her blunt, honest, passionate friendship with Carrington! What business had a barely twenty-year old peasant-raised lad in THESE kinds of intregues? Forty-one seasons of campaign or not, Crispian still felt his youth ill-equipping him for moments like this!


"But, what?" the steward demanded, eye flicking momentarily across Crispian's bare-chest under the doublet. And Crispian seized a plan!


"I was hoping," he said in a demuring voice, hoping it struck imitation fair of the younger court girls he had met so recently, "that perhaps you had times you could get away from your - ah - household duties?"


He dropped his eyes, cursing himself for not bringing a good sword, but the ruse from earlier had been not the kind that a sword blended with easily.


The steward ran a finger down Crispian's chest. "Perhaps so," he purred. Crispian held a hiss of anger in and clenched his jaw tight. "Send me word of when, lad. I thought the lady was a bit, well, old for you, but never thought..."


Mercifully, the steward did NOT continue that thought. Crispian grabbed up his discarded tunic and nodded, not feigning the nervousness he now felt. "I shall, but it must be discreet due to our - ah - mutual standings."


He moved toward the door, intentionally mimicing Moryan's bold struck. He had just gained the door when the steward grab his wrist, turning him about.


In a movement unexpected, the steward was suddenly kissing Crispian. Fighting the urge to strike the man, Crispian groaned and broke loose from the man's grasp.


"I must be away before I am over missed," he muttered and scrabbled out of the room, down the hall and out of the building. Without a pause, he raced across town to his chambers, for much must get down this might.


A beggar, sleeping in the shelter of the Defenders Guild building, found himself the sudden reciepiant of a cost tunic, tossed upon by a young man racing by.

 

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Arguyle sat on the balcony of his apartments and watched as a young man who appeared to be Crispian ran by. He kept looking behind him and he was wiping frantically at his face. Almost as if he were trying to wipe some foul tasting fluid from his mouth.


The young armsman had a look of fear and disgust on his face. Arguyle leaned over the railing and watched as the armsman entered the Defenders guild hall.


Curious what the lad was doing at this hour and why he was dressed as if he were a Court Rooster he quickly rose and slipped an old chain hauberk over his head. He took up his sword and headed down to the Defender's guild to see what had Crispian so riled.

((hehe.. Moryan walks like that so she GETS noticed, grabbed and kissed..best think bout that next time.))


Moryan was wandering the streets late at night, still trying to sort out her thoughts. This new business with Lynx and his father was getting her distracted from the meeting with the King.


"Hell and damnation" she swore, as Crispian ran by her like the demons of hell were chasing him. She saw him throw something at a beggar, then slip into the Defenders. She decided to follow to see what he was about, maybe he'd learned something new.


As she turned the corner, she bumped shoulders with the great, shaggy, red-headed paladin she called friend.


"Arguyle, what are ye doing lurking around at this hour? and in that smelly old chain!" Her nose wrinkled and she grinned up at her friend.

Arguyle caught the woman that he had run into around the shoulders to keep her from falling to the ground.


"Pardon me M'Lady. I did not see..." he stopped. "Moryan? What am I doing out at this hour? What in blazes are you doing out here? BAH! Nevermind that. Crispian seems to be in some touble. Come on."


With that he darted off toward the Defender's guild. Then the last part of her question registered.


"And this chain does not smell!!" yelled the Paladin.

Stripping as he entered, Crispian wakened both Jashen and Tannir. Inside of a minute, he was devested of all garments and dumping an ewer of water over his head. "Holy Bolts of Arse-Fire that Woman and her household are VILE!" he raged, gulping wine down from a flagon as Tannir fetched more water.


"Calm down, Crisp, it can't be that bad!" Jashen soothed, knowing his twin well enough to let him rage a bit first. The last time Crispian had been this upset was...oh Lord that was a LONG time ago!


"Jash, it was so...revolting!" He poured the water Tannir offered over his head, then accepted a towel from the lad and began drying off.


"But what did you learn?" Jashen tried redirecting the topic as he offered Crispian fresh linen breeches. "Anything useful?"


Stepping into the breeches, Crispian was interrupted by a knocking at the door, then the head of Ardy, a highlander recently initiated to the League, popped in. "Pardon me, siar, but there be a brute of a Bairn seekin' to see ye. Said to tell ye his name be Arguyle MacFadden, but he dinna look like the pompous blow-hard many e're to make him ti be, siar."


Smirking around a mouthful of wine, Crispian nodded. "Show the Lord General up, Ardy MacArdy, and bit ye quick aboot it," he drolled in his worst highlander accent.


Pulling a rough-spun tunic on, he was still barefoot as he saluted Arguyle, just entering in the chain of a common working solider. "Lord General, a pleasure."

 

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She yelled out, "It farking reeks ye blasted highlander," and quickly followed, pushing into the room behind Arguyle to spy Crispian looking a bit wide-eyed and very damp.


Barefoot and in home-spun, she admired the lad and grinned impishly from beside Arguyle and his stinking chain.


"Sooo.. what ha'e ye been up ta?" She sniffs the air,"is that a woman's perfume I smell on ye?"