City of IF

[Chinaren]

Chapter 8. The Farmer King.

Byrold peered out from behind the small tree. The fading light made it hard to see clearly, but the last group of workers seemed to be thinning out, heading back to their small houses after a hard day of backbreaking labor in the fields.

He waited a moment more before scurrying to the next bush. The farmhouse he had decided upon as an initial destination still lay quiet and dead. If he could get there and break in, steal some clothes, he could move around a little more freely.

Byrold was just about to make another dash when he heard voices. He ducked down, his breath coming hard, hand on the sword as he tried to squint through the branches to see who was coming.

Two figures traipsed into view, approaching on a nearby path. Farmers both by the looks of things. They were resting scythes over their shoulders, and one was drinking from an oversized bottle.

As they walked closer the one with the drink said something to the other, and took a different path, leading away. The second one waved and carried on towards the farmhouse. Byrold swore under his breath. Obviously this was the owner returning. He started slightly as he realized the farmer’s route led perilously close to his bush, which could only be classed as ‘cover’ from a distance. Up close he would be seen easily.

Before he could do anything about it, a voice came out of the gloom. “Ooh’s there? Show th’ self. A’v a blade y’know!”

Sighing, Byrold stood, leaving his crown on the ground near the base of the shrubbery. He decided to leave his sword in the sheath, but his hand rested on the hilt.

“Ooh are th’?” Asked the man, his scythe held in front of him like some sort of wall. “Th’ want t’ rob m’, th’ out a luck.”

Byrold paused a moment as he tried to untangle the unfamiliar accent. The man was human, skin browned dark from days in the fields, matched by his basic clothes. His frame was small but wiry. A straw hat of some kind was slung behind him, hanging from a piece of twine around his neck.

“I mean you no harm good man.”

The man squinted in surprise at the response. “N’ ‘arm eh?” He was silent for a moment. Then, much to Byrold’s relief, he burst out into a wheezing laughter. “Th’s good. “N’ ‘arm.” He lowered the scythe, to the king’s relief and stepped closer. “Th’ n’t from ‘round ‘ere I think.”

Byrold recovered from his surprise. “I am a traveler. Unfortunately my carriage was waylaid by ruffians. I managed to escape, but I fear pursuit. Would you help me?”

The peasant raised his eyes at the story, which Byrold had concocted ready for just such an occasion. “Ruffins’ is it? Well, mab’ true. Bin’ talk o’ tr’ble ‘n village.” He scratched his head. “Best com’ ‘n then.”

He shuffled forward, not bothering to look and see if Byrold was following or not. After a moment, the king stepped out onto the path and fell in beside him.

“My name is… ah, Meeks,” he said, taking the first name that came to mind. If anyone found out a little misdirection wouldn’t go amiss.

“Ay’ m’ Duck m’sen.”

“Duck?” Repeated Byrold, still having trouble understanding the man.

“S’ wha’ I said.”

“Well Mr. Duck, you would find me appreciative if you could spare a robe, and perhaps a little food. I have no coin of the realm upon my person, but I am sure we could find something to trade.”

Duck merely grunted. They were near the house now. A small but fairly well looked after structure, sturdily built of solid wood, the roof thatched with some kind of yellow-green material. The farmer placed his scythe in a rack, alongside some other tools, and pushed open the door, which was evidently not locked. “C’m ‘n.”

Byrold stepped inside after the local, and waited a moment as the man scrabbled around in the dark, eventually locating a small lamp. He mumbled a word and the lamp began to glow with a steady light, albeit with a greenish tinge. Byrold raised his eye at such an artifact being in the possession of a common farmer. Magic lamps were common enough in Yroth of course, but the income of a field worker would not usually cover such an item. Still, he made no comment.

Duck saw his face and misunderstood. “Ay. Light ‘tis bit old now. Still, ca’ see wi’ green light as well a’ white eh?” He cackled to himself and placed the lamp on a low table. “Y’ b’ wantin’ some grub.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but hobbled over to a low fireplace and set about lighting it, in the traditional manner this time.

The king sighed. “I appreciate your hospitality sir. I will ensure you are suitably recompensed for your troubles.”

“N’ need. A’ read t’ book y’ know. Know m’ duty.” Duck managed to get a fire started and moved over towards a cupboard.

Byrold frowned, trying to understand the reference. He had to try and figure out where he was, yet simply asking what country he was in would no doubt seem rather odd. Still, he had thought about this a little, and had decided that the climate would indicate he was north somewhere. Assuming he was still within the known world, the fact this man was human, and the others he had seen from a distance probably so, would rule out Iswyle. It was too verdant to be Glormp, and it certainly wasn’t Etherial. Discounting Centic, that only left the land of Necromancers, Charredal, Vestrel or the mystical northern Isles. Of course, he had no way of knowing if he had moved in time as well as space. Still, he somehow sensed this wasn’t the case. One step at a time.

“Don’ have fancy stuff y’ n’ doubt used t’,” said Duck, interrupting his thoughts. “Still’ tis fillin’ ‘nuf. Here, take a swig.” He placed a large brown pot bottle on the table, similar to the one Byrold has seen the other man drinking from.

The king uncorked it and sniffed at the top, making sure Duck wasn’t looking as he did so. The fumes were potent. Still, he lifted it to his lips and took a draught. The liquor burned his mouth, then his throat as he swallowed, setting him to coughing and spluttering.

“Heh,” said Duck, not looking around from the food preparation. “P’ hair ‘n y’ chest t’ will,” he said.

“Either that or kill you,” said Byrold, but quietly. The drink had certainly warmed his insides.

He watched as Duck prepared a simple meal. Rice and chicken were cooked in a broth, and he was soon sitting down to a wooden bowl filled to the brim. Unfamiliar vegetables were placed on a plate in the middle of the table. Two small wooden cups were put next to it, which Duck indicated Byrold should fill with the drink.

The farmer sat down opposite and started shoveling the food in with a spoon, breaking off a leaf from the salad to mix in.

Byrold took a cautious taste. It was simple but hearty fare. He took another spoonful, more enthusiastically this time.

They ate without speaking; the sound of mastication filling the hut, which soon became cozy. Duck insisted he drink the cup of liquor in one go, which Byrold did out of desire to comply with local customs, though it nearly burned his mouth off. The drink finished he placed the cup back on the table, whereupon Duck filled it to the brim again before he continuing to eat.

The meal continued in silence, only broken by the occasional spluttering as Byrold forced the liquid down at regular intervals. It seemed this society drank together. He was soon feeling the effects.

Eventually, replete, Duck stood. “Sleep there,” he said simply, pointing to a low table-like affair in the back of the room. He cleared the dishes away, and then went outside. Byrold was wondering where he had gone when he heard the sound of liquid hitting dirt. It seemed the facilities were of the most basic kind.

He waited until Duck had returned before going outside to emulate the act himself, taking the opportunity to quickly check his crown was out of sight where he had left it, behind the bush. Satisfied it was, he returned inside to find Duck laid out on one side of the ‘bed’, still in his clothes and already snoring.

Shrugging to himself, Byrold lay down beside him and quickly fell into a alcohol induced slumber.

>

Sunlight filtering in through the small window woke him. Byrold lay still for a few moments, trying to remember where he was, and why his head ached so. Then it came back to him. The spell, the old farmer, and the drink. That would explain the headache at least, he thought as he gingerly sat up and looked around.

The farmer was nowhere in sight, but on the bed next to Byrold was a set of rather ragged clothes. The king shrugged to himself and, discarding his outer garments, replaced them with the more simple apparel. No doubt he would look like a common worker, but until he had a chance to evaluate his situation a farmer was safer than a king.

He was just rolling his own clothes up into a bundle when Duck returned. He shoved something into Byrold’s hand. “Qui’ take th’s,” he said. “Sit th’r n’ say nothin’.”

“What…?”

Duck cut him off. “D’ it!” He commanded.

Byrold complied, watching as Duck gathered his clothes and shoved them in the fire where they burned merrily. Making a sign to stop the king’s complaints, he took Byrold’s sword and hid it under and behind the bed.

His actions became clear a moment later. A loud banging upon the door. “Open! In the name of the People!” A loud clear voice commanded from the other side.

Gesturing to Byrold to put on the hat, Duck moved slowly to the entrance. Waiting until the king was ready, he opened the door.

A large figure pushed him to one side and entered the room, making the hut seem even smaller than it was.

Byrold examined the newcomer surreptitiously from below the rim of his new head gear. The boots were long and black, made of fine leather. A mail tunic covered most of the man’s body, and this in turn was covered by a fine silk tunic, woven with elaborate patterns. A slim sword peered out from over one shoulder, partially obscured by long black hair, which was tightly tied back.

Duck bowed low, groveling on the floor, and Byrold hastily emulated the action.

From his low vantage point, Byrold saw the soldier nudged Duck with his toe. “Stand.”

“Y’ s’r,” Duck replied, and the king saw his new friend’s bare feet as he complied.

“We are looking for a man. A stranger. Have you seen anyone? He would be an outsider, though he could be disguised.”

“N’ s’r.” Mumbled Duck.

“What about this one?” The soldier had obviously seen Byrold.

“Lads blessed s’r. Dunt speak. Hi’ muthr too old whun sh’ birthd hm s’r.”

“Mmm. Well if you see anything unusual you are to report to the garrison immediately. You understand?”

“Y’ s’r.”

“Good.” Byrold watched as the black boots turned and walked out of the room. The man’s voice could be heard talking to someone else, though Byrold couldn’t hear what he said clearly. After a moment the sound of a horse and footsteps could be heard moving off.

“Bes’ b’ off then.” Duck was looking at him. It was clear he had overstayed his welcome.

Byrold looked at the man as he stood up. “Thank-you Duck. I will not forget this.”

The farmer just nodded and stood to one side. “Wall is south, pas’ garrison,” he said, then watched as Byrold recovered his sword and peered out of the doorway.

It was all clear. Nodding once again at Duck, who didn’t reply, he walked out. The door slammed shut behind him.

>

The road was dusty, and the sun beat down upon him. Byrold trudged along wearily. He was tired and thirsty. He had managed to drink at a stream he had stumbled over earlier on, but having no container, he was unable to take any water with him.

His sword sheath was stuffed down one leg of his itchy new clothes, making it seem he had a limp. It had the bonus of adding to the general disguise, but the disadvantage of making it tiring to walk.

His crown was harder to conceal, but he had shoved it up his tunic, under his arm. It made a bit of a suspicious bump, but Byrold couldn’t risk leaving it behind.

He paused for a moment to wipe his brow and look further down the lane. Ahead, just coming in to view on the horizon, was a large stone building. No doubt it was the garrison mentioned earlier. Byrold had now decided he was in Vestrel. The soldiers’ garb and his talk of the ‘outsider’ pointed to such anyway, re-enforcing his earlier deductions. Byrold knew little of Vestrel. The country was a solitary one, keeping itself to itself. He did know that they had a ruling council of some kind, and the population was more human than not, with a sizable mixture of elves, half-elves, dwarves and gnomes. Yroth had done minimal trade with them, though they had a formal treaty that acknowledged each others existence, that was about the sum of matter.

A small shelter made of rough bricks came into view on the side of the road. As he approached Byrold saw it was some kind of rest stop. He gladly ducked into the shade and took a deep drink from a metal basin containing water. before sitting down on the long stone bench for a rest.

He dozed. The long walk away from Duck’s house, along with the hot sun had made him weary. Thus he didn’t see the newcomer until he entered the shelter.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you lad,” said the fat man, seeing him jump. “Just wanted to get out of the sun for a while.”

Byrold nodded, pulling his hat down over his face a little. Something outside moved. A horse. He could just make out a wagon behind it.

The man sat on the bench next to him with a loud sigh. “Ah, I am getting too old for this.” He brushed the dust of his tunic, which though plain was of a better quality than Byrold’s. “You a local?” The man asked.

Byrold shook his head. “Just visiting my uncle.”

The man nodded vigorously, making his double chin wobble. “A farmer are you?”

Byrold made a neutral sign which could be taken as a yes, wishing the man would go away. He didn’t know enough about the local area to make up a detailed story.

“How are the beet crops? Will the harvest be a good one this year, with all this sun?”

Byrold shrugged. “Can’t say for sure,” he said.

The man ducked a little, trying to get a look under Byrold’s hat. “You’re a little pale for a farmer.”

“Been sick.”

That got the man’s attention at least. He harrumphed and stood up rather hastily. “Well, best be going. Good journey to you sir.”

Byrold didn’t reply, watching the man warily as he climbed onto the wagon with a grunt, and set off down the road. After a few more minutes he sighed and forced himself to his feet once again. Splashing his face and tunic with water, and taking one more drink, he stepped out of the shelter.

The sun’s rays beat down on him afresh, causing him to wince as he resumed his hobble down the road. The garrison loomed large, and he slowed his already slow walk further as he considered it. No doubt there would be some kind of lodging nearby, he could possibly trade something for a room whilst he figured out what his next step would be. He had concealed his jewelry in his breeches.

He limped on and, sure enough, a small village came into view, houses clustered around the garrison like children around their father.

Byrold stopped again, but then decided he wasn’t going to get anything done just standing there. His disguise had worked back at Duck’s house, there should be no reason it wouldn’t again. He limped into the village, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

It was a small place. A couple of shops, several dozen small houses, something that looked like an inn, and the garrison itself, looming over everything else. A small squad of soldiers marched out as he watched, trooping past him. They looked fit and well trained.

Byrold felt his pouch. He considered walking into the garrison and announcing himself, but hesitated, remembering the soldier’s speech. Were they looking for him? If so, what were their intentions, and how did they know he was there? Of course, it could be a co-incidence.

On the other hand there was the inn. He could try trading his ring for lodgings, though he was a little concerned about his current garb. A peasant with a gold ring could be asked certain questions, and he didn’t relish the idea of extra attention.

He moved back against a wall, looked around and thought about it.


>>>>>>

Okay, not the most thrilling of episodes, but I am going at my own pace thank-you! The plot moves on, slowly.

What should he do next? Suggestions as usual please! Apologies if the DP is a little similar to the last one, but if I carried on to the next logical place, it would have gone on for too long. So you will have to wait until next time for further revelations!

Certain set-players may soon receive a PM as well. Ooooh!

<<<<<<

[JezSharp]

Well considering that Vesteral are generally neutral to friendly with Yroth it would seem best for him to find the embassy/governers house and claim that he was making a surprise personal visit when attacked, then ask for assistance home, whilst praising the mayor (or person of equivalent standing of his country in general - the crown should be enough proof of who he is).

[dinranwen]

I would say avoid the garrison, if possible without looking suspicous, and try to get to this 'wall' the farmer spoke of. This is a foriegn country, and without knowing the countries intentions or postion on his recent disapperance, Bryold should take no chances.

And the set players are more than ready to recieve an interesting p.m...... :D

I love when things get sublty interesting...

[Kalanna Rai]

I'd try for the Wall, which is obviously the border, and jump it. Or if Byrold is in a less than Rambo-like mood maybe he can snoop around and see if he can't figure out why the Vestral are hunting him. It could be that they're looking for him to return him...though that doesn't seem likely considering the people are being far more friendly to Eldra than to him.

I still say he pretends to be mad. Obviously that makes people avoid you and not take to heart what you say.

[Almar Crowkiller]

Im with going to find an embassy of some sort. Definitly not contact the garrison and try to get over the wall......that didnt help did it? :-o :shock:
Ha ha im with the going mad as well if only for a very comical aspect. (great writing as usual by the way)

[hewithoutaname]

Being there without knowledge is a bad thing for Byrold so I would agree with staying a while and finding out whatever he could. Other than that there is the wall, or he could try to knock out a guard to further disguise himself during his stay.

And even if similar to the previous chapter, this chapter does throw in a new factor to be looked at.

[Argonaut]

I'm interested in what this book was that Duck mentioned. And why he thought it was his duty to help Byrold. I'm not sure how he would find any information about this but if there are people who feel it's their duty to help strangers around he could sure use their help.

[Mother Goose]

Duck told him where the Wall was. That implies that there's a way to get through, over, or under it, or at least Duck thinks so. The Wall, according to the maps and information, is on the southern border, and the country south of Vestrel is Charredal. So if he can get past the wall, at least he'll be out of the place where soldiers come around looking for strangers.

He has a lot of ground to cover to get back to Yroth. Maybe he should try to find a ship, to make faster time. But Vestrel does not seem friendly and I think he needs to get out of there as soon as he can. Try for the Wall.

[hewithoutaname]

Good point Mother Goose, but leaving with out the knowledge of why he is being hunted may end up hurting him in the long run. If he stays a little bit and figures the reason out he might uncover plots set to dispose of him.

Otherwise I would agree with you completely. Also argueing is my hobby.

[Mother Goose]

Isn't the reason he's being hunted the same as the reason he ended up there? So Eldra can get rid of him as king. I wouldn't stick around trying to uncover plots, I'd just get out of there if I could.

I like to argue too. :)

[D-Lotus]

Woohoo, another new chapter! I read this for the intrigue...it makes the hair in back of my head stand up. ;)

One thing doesn't make sense. According to Byrold's story, he is a traveler who got lost, therefore, the officer who intruded into Duck's house would be able to help him. Then why did Duck hide him, if he believed the story?

So the only logical explanation is that Duck knew the truth of Meek's identity to some extent. He must have heard that someone was being hunted. For some reason, Duck hid him. This can only signify that Duck knew that if he was found, something bad was going to happen to him. Therefore, I think it is unwise to contact any source of authority or incite suspicion.

Attempting to escape the country is a good idea, and so is finding all the information you can. After all, information is weightier than gold in this country, and the story focuses on intrigue. As for shelter and food, its going to be hard not to make people suspicious. Although we want to stay away from suspicion, we're going to have to risk using the jewels sooner or later. Make up some story- tell them its a family heirloom. Then trade it for currency, which you can use at liberty much more easily than the jewels. Promise them more, but tell them you have it stored or hidden, and hopefully they won't attempt to attack you.

After gathering information, perhaps things will roll more smoothly and give us a chance to escape. If not, taking up the identity of a soldier, merchant or trader can buy you a ticket out, especially if you claim the necessity of travel.

As for the writing- the accent was good, although not perfect. Keep working on it, and keep the story going, its getting better every time! :D

[LordoftheNight]

Not necissarily. Duck could simply have known strangers are ill-treated by certain groups, and therefore hidden Bryold without knowing they were looking for him in particular. Once he discovered who they were looking for, he did send 'Meeks' on his way.

If he suddenly informed the soldiers that 'Meeks' was a stranger, fitting their description, then he may have been in trouble too.

[D-Lotus]

In any case, it means that Byrold doesn't want it to be known that he is a stranger.

Besides, Meeks never said wether he was from another country- Duck didn't know if he was from Vestrel or not. There was not much questioning from either side, and Duck's unnatural curiosity must signify he's not a usual person. He hid Meeks for his own reason, and we'll probably never know why; but it is clear Byrold is in danger.

[solus.serpen]

Great new chappy, and I like all the suggestions/ideas so far.
I would just like to say though, I don't think he would just be able to leave through the wall. It was my first reaction that he should just keep on pretending to be ill, or a lost farmer, or going to see someone, make sure he looked a bit different and walk through the gate unnoticed. Then I realised that they may well search him, and almost certainly ask a few questions.
Charredel doesn't sound like a place people generally go to for a holiday, or live in, or even try to pass through. Even if the guards on Vestrel's side of the gate don't stop him, I'm sure that he would have to undergo some form of interrigation once he reached the other side. :?
Maybe though, this wouldn't be such a bad thing, as long as he got passed Vestrels borders. Charredel, from their letters, seem to be neutral, just bordering on 'meeks' side ;).

Solus

[Jack_D.Mented]

I, personally, would steal a horse and haul a** to the border. Plots can be uncovered later. Right now, survival is paramount.

Keep on haulin all through Charredel and don't stop till you get home.

But, that's just me.

Great chapter, by the way.

[Chinaren]

Great responses so far people! Bear in mind he doesn't know exactly how far the wall is, and he is rather tired too.

[Smee]

I think Dani mentioned it, but if/when we finally trade the jewelery, it needs to be for actual coinage, and not for 'a bed for the night' etc. One ring should get plenty of money, only some of which would be required for a bed in such a small gathering of civilisation near the Garrison.

One idea, if we're feeling a little courageous. The garrison will more than likely have someone who receives gold from the capital to pay the wages of the soldiers on a weekly basis. That person, if we could find them, might be amenable to buying a ring or two off us for a relatively cheap price (using the capital's money), selling them on himself for more, and keeping the profit. Their deal being as shady as a 'farmer' having a gold ring, should limit the questions on either side.

Regardless of whom we sell it to, it shouldn't be the innkeeper - don't want them paying us money for a ring before setting the price of the room, knowing what gold we have. If we do find a buyer, also ask for some small change. A farmer with a gold coin is as suspicious as a gold ring. We want some coppers, small silvers etc. as well.

That's enough about money... a good chapter Chinaren, I'm never one to worry about the slow chapters - indeed I didn't even consider it a slow chapter until you said. Going from the middle of nowhere with no hope, to some relative civilisation with a suitable disguise and a good idea where we are in the world sounds like quite a productive chapter to me.

As for longer term. Hmmm... kinda undecided. Information gathering I think. I'm relucatant to head to the necromancers' lands. Sounds more dangerous that where we currently are.

[Kalanna Rai]

Hawk the jewels as fast as you can, maybe the robes too. I wouldn't want to say you ambushed a noble, and the crown would be too much...besides you might need it later. Then get a room at the inn, keep up with this 'i've been sick' and keep your mouth well shut.

Then snoop around, most important thing of all. If you snoop you can figure out how far from which borders you are then make a decision about where to run. At the moment you've got two choices. Magical lizards or walking dead...take your pick of borders.

[DELETED]

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[Masterweaver]

Yeah...Sell the jewels and his services and that guy who keeps hanging around him! ;)

[Almar Crowkiller]

Alright ill just respond that i would like to change my vote and go with Z and say he should join some sort of merchant expedition not only because it affords him a place to sleep and eat but because if he finds a merchant that hires gaurds from many countries he might be able to blend in even easier(mind you with the soldiers response to outsiders it seems less that likely) Also i think he should sell all his things except for his sword and his crown. with the money he could by a new set of clothes, a horse(maybe) and probably some reliable information.

[Chinaren]

Wooo! Some good ideas in here!

I will leave it a little while longer, then put up a poll.

so far we have (roughly)

Try and find a dodgy geezer to trade with.

Hock the jewels and then gear up and explore.

Hock the jewels, gear up and get out of there!

Find the Guvnr's house and ask for official aid.

Try and get to 'the wall'.

Snoop around, maybe pretend to be mad.

Try and waylay someone (maybe a guard) and get their clothing.

Try and find out about 'the book'.

Seek a position with a merchant band.

Okay, some of those can be combined.

[Masterweaver]

Oh my. Chin, how do you get so many posts? I want some posts!

[Argonaut]

Masterweaver wrote: Oh my. Chin, how do you get so many posts? I want some posts!

Chinaren has been writing storygames for a long time, and they have been consistently good storygames. That is why he gets so many posts. :)

[Masterweaver]

Is that an insult?

[Argonaut]

I don't insult people, weaver. I thought it was a clear answer to your question.

[Smudger]

And finally I have caught up! :clap: Great story so far Cina, well done. f5 with Jez, get help from the narby garrison or narby officials. Hope to read more.

[Chinaren]

Poll is now up.

I will merge the 'Hock the jewels to a dodgy geezer' into the first two options, and 'find out about the book' into the 'snoop about' option. Otherwise there are a few too many choices.

[solus.serpen]

:D first vote to me.
Torn between last two, but decided to go with band.

~Solus

[D-Lotus]

Won't he have to hock the jewels to buy supplies and clothes to appear like a merchant?

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[Chinaren]

D-Lotus wrote: Won't he have to hock the jewels to buy supplies and clothes to appear like a merchant?

I believe the suggestion was to become a guard in a band, rather than a merchant, using his sword skills. if you voted for the last one, and believe he should hock the jewels first (which has some risk attached remember) then please say something! It's kinda another suggestion. :?

[DELETED]

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[solus.serpen]

To check: I voted join as a gaurd with the merchants, and keep the jewels.

~Solus

[Masterweaver]

TEN WHOLE VOTES!