RP:Alternative Rumors

From HollowWiki

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc


Summary: Thamalys confronts Queen Josleen at the busy Larketian market in the town square over rumors he's heard of the mistreatment of witches in Larket. The Queen holds her ground and plays her role in dispelling those rumors and supporting her King.

Larket Town Square

Josleen visits the market on the hunt for a kitschy, quintessentially Larketian antique bookends to replace the boring bookends in her personal shelf in the castle. A queen has people who have people who can be sent on such an errand, but she’s no recluse and enjoys the excuse to leave the coddling care of butlers and rub elbows with strangers, and perhaps soak up the adulation that comes with being public-while-famous. But it would be a mistake to confuse her desire to mingle with the citizenry as a signal that she is a Queen of the people. She mostly sticks to the implicitly gentry side of the market, which has for as long as it has existed wordlessly organized itself along class lines. This is not unique to Larket. Flanked by Royal Guards, she smiles and waves at star-struck merchants and the nobility class’s trusted servants who shop on their behalf. The Queen dares venture into the poorer stalls for spicier street foods and one particularly quirky antique stall that looks promising. However, she avoids a tiny corner of the market claimed by the destitute for their flea bargain trades. They peddles in soups and hand me down boots and coats, and, more recently, pentacles, herbs, and tattered spellbooks. A society’s underclass changes with the times, at this moment in Larket’s history, mostly women inhabit these flea stalls. They tend to wear pentacle earrings and moonstone rings and wear their hair long and unruly. One woman sits alongside the road begging for copper from all who pass her. Josleen spots her from a distance and hands her guard 2 gold pieces, says something to him, then nods to the homeless witch. The guard jogs over to the woman, deposits the gold coins, but says nothing to the witch, then jogs back to his post in the Queen’s security detail.


Thamalys testily glided through the thick grey clouds lacing the bulky shapes of the Larketian buildings, a long sigh gifting to the frosty breeze. Before long, he eventually connected with the stony grounds of the Town Square, heels first, crouching into a willowy knot of tattooed flesh before rising to his - bare - feet, those silver-clad wings folding neatly with a seemingly endless lamentation of metallic sounds. Most of the many onlookers quickly gave way, scampering along trying not to stare too much - with very mixed results. Unfazed, and given the Royal matter ahead, the Blue had opted for a rather apt attire, an oddly elegant dress wrapping his impossibly skinny features into a shiny monument of silky black, complex motifs telling of stars and moons embroidering the whole of the fabric, the latter covering most of his pale, inked, skin. Only a few paces away from the Winged Beast, the Queen herself stood, intent in some business that the Blue judged vastly unrelated to her Royal duties - or not. And, what a marvellous timing. An instant, two of those long, measured strides of his, and the Spellblade found himself already close enough to offer salutation, the intimidating, skilful curtain of Her guards still in the way, though. “Your Majesty…” he begun briskly enough, the stiffest of bows nonetheless conceding to her who was used to be addressed as Thane not so long ago - time, as Avians indeed, does fly utterly fast after all in Lithrydel as well. Whether or not she noticed the plea, he would have continued, possibly his tone rising as requested, in order to overcome the noisy background. “A disturbing rumour reached some Healer’s in Frostmaw, m’am - myself included. I was wondering whether I may steal some minutes of your precious time…” Not a single note of irony, on indeed disrespect whatsoever could have been traced within the flat, deep tone of the Blue, the eyes of the latter squarely nailed onto the Bard, awaiting, perfectly still. The people in the background, Witchy or not, would have been - for now - totally neglected…


Josleen´s curtain of guards tighten into a wall as Thamalys closes in suddenly and unannounced on the Queen. They tense as what they hoped would be an uneventful market visit has been crashed by a star-studded avian. Josleen turns to regard the avian but does not yet call the guard off her stranger. His motives are unclear, and given recent protests in the city, the Queen is on heightened alert. His bow, the mention of healers, and Frostmaw go a long way in helping him gain an audience. “A rumor…” she repeats. “And who am I speaking to? Your name and affiliations?”


Thamalys did not anticipate either a warm welcome or a smooth dialogue indeed - and yet he appreciated Her caution, a quality so awfully underrated those days. “My deepest apologies, Ma’am. I go by the name of Thamalys, having the honour of serving within the ranks of the Healer’s Guild. Matter of fact, I fought for Larket recently enough - albeit I am not particularly proud of that….” he pointed out flatly, one more step hinting toward the Queen. Much as a perfectly oiled set of cogs and wheels, the bulky figures of the guards slightly adjusted to his move - an evidence which did not go amiss, not by the keen eyes of the Spellblade, who limited himself to cant his head slightly toward the right, awaiting for his introduction to sink in while pondering the skills of said sentinels.


Josleen‘s expression remains neutral and receptive as Thamalys states he belongs to the Healer’s Guild, warms a little when he mentions serving Larket, then chills when he says he regrets that. Rude. “It’s an odd choice to tell me you regret serving my husband, the King, and this great city. But dissenting opinions are as welcome as the fawning.” [Sort of.] She gestures towards the gazebo. “Is that an adequate place to discuss your rumor?” Assuming so, two guards peel off the security detail to scan the gazebo ahead of the Queen’s arrival. Josleen motions for the guards to allow Thamalys to walk more comfortably with her to the gazebo. He may begin whenever it pleases him.


Thamalys, despite the clearest invitation to duly follow the Bard into the gazebo, did not actually move at all. Well, in fairness, his right hand swayed across his face in the rather vain attempt to at least partially displace the ivory-white mass of his waist-long dreadlocks, presently cascading in equal measure on his chest and shoulders - but there where he was he stood, whether on purpose or not, that remained to be seen. He did begin to talk, tough, albeit not in the soft, polite manners of speech one could and should expect from somebody standing before a Queen. The whole of his words, in fact, sounded more like a public accusation, if anything else. “Well, adequate or not, I daresay you would know what I am about to refer to…Witches!” he sort of growled in a low pitch, eyes narrowing, arms crossing, the whole of him plainly uptight. “Word on the street is that each and everyone of them has been deemed sort of guilty - of what, I cannot even begin to understand… - and hence treated as such. May I be so bold and ask… is this even true, Ma’am?” he inquired, pretending not to notice at all the stir his words most likely caused within the onlookers, chiefly a couple of red headed girls - not too far away from the very homeless the Queen herself gifted some gold to just minutes before. The two, up to then intent in carving some silly - or not… - patterns into a blackish wooden staff most would have - wrongly - identified with just a toy, exchanged looks which, despite their desperate efforts, did look as stemming from the purest shade of fear. The words of the Blue were still ringing into the air, when the young duo rose to their feet and casually begun to move toward the darkest of the tiny alleys branching into the square. In the meantime, the Spellblade would have remained cautiously just outside of the gazebo, the very rims of his wings twitching slightly, as if calling for the caress of some northern wind.


Josleen had expected a witch-related diatribe for Thamalys is not the first to find her and scream at her based on baseless rumors. Thus, despite his towering figure and acerbic tone, she manages to keep her chin high and spine ramrod straight. She can feel the crowd watching the discussion, straining their ears to the avaian’s voice. Josleen gives up moving to the gazebo as it seems apparent the avian wishes for this to become a public spectacle, to embarrass her, but she is not embarrassed for she has nothing to be embarrassed about. If he wants a performance, the bard will perform, and he’ll be hard-pressed to outperform her, she’ll see to that. The crowd’s split in prejudice for and against the crown or witches. Neither Thamalys nor the Queen have the fullest sympathies here. “Ah yes, I have heard this rumor, and I find the accusation self-defeating. You say that witches are accused of…something… Something that not even you can define? ‘Something’” she air quotes the word, makes a spooky face like she’s been told the boogeyman exists. “’Something’” she repeats for effect. “And they’re being punished… somehow? Is that right? You say they are being treated… in accordance with their presumed guilt… for something? Witches are suffering ‘somehow’ because they are accused of ‘something’? Does the lack of specificity not ring any alarm bells? It certainly has a whiff of falsehood to me.”


Thamalys was definitely unamused, although a part of him could not help to admire the poise of the Queen. Also, playing on the notes of the correlation between vagueness and falsehood… wise, and as such, appreciated. “Ma’am. Details are dangerous things, in the hands of Queens and worthless Healers alike, I fear. And yet you are right, in that I would not care that much about the reason why. I look at hard facts, at evidences, at the sheer numbers of those who seek my potions. The results are what concerns me - the causation, not quite. Since you ask, though…” he continued, sidestepping, arms disentangling to cross behind his back, bony fingers intertwining like the very tattooed ivy covering his skin. “… the very same rumours would say Larket is grouping them. Witches have been looked for, found, put together, and shoved away from the City - where, they would not tell me. Now, to be perfectly clear…” he concluded, a sort of snarl surfacing on those grey thin lips, “… let me assure you I would never dare to endanger the relationship between the Guild and the Crown - to which we are utterly grateful. We are here to serve - but we also need to know what is going to be. Whether these rumours are true or not, that is. I am sure you would reckon that special care will have to be taken, were Witches to be confined together somewhere - at all. And what about those populating the Academy? They have been proven especially helpful to us… you see, as Healers, I daresay these issues do concerns us, hence my questioning.” Probing, questioning, evaluating - diplomacy not exactly his strength, the Winged Beast had indeed some personal reason to investigate the matter, but the last thing he wanted was indeed to enter in an argument with Her Majesty when dealing on behalf of the Guild - the Wintry Lady, if not the Elfess herself, would have had his head on a silver plate in no time.


"It's 'Your Majesty,'" Josleens gently reminds Thamalys when he calls her ma'am. Friends earn flexbility in how to address her; foes do not. Those who interrupt her day to try to humiliate her in public can call her Your Majesty. She wrinkles her nose in confusion when Thamalys mentions potions. What for, and what has that got to do with Larket? She openly laughs when Thamalys says witches are being rounded up and corraled out of society. "That's an absurd accusation." While Thamalys may not intend to argue with Josleen, she feels he's trying to put her on the back foot and swings hard right back at him. "The journey from Larket to Frostmaw is very long, and so I can appreciate how stories and rumor twist and misshape en route to the City of War." She over enunciates and slowly speaks the nickname to make a point that Thamalys, and she as its Thane, do not exactly hail from a pacifist, open society with porous borders and weak secrity measures when it perceives a threat. "The earthquake, which I remind you was likely caused by a rogue coven of witches--who while they do not represent all witches, do demonstrate a great power and thus a great vulnerability if left unchecked--that earthquake brought most of this City's buildings to ruin. You can see for yourself that rubble still gathers on corners and in alleys, and construction efforts cannot keep pace. Thus my husband, the King, has invested even more funds into the reconstruction effort, and thus there is a demand for more laborers. Many people have responded to the call for laborers, among them witches." (More like 'the largest group among them witches, by far,' but sure.) "As for the other measures King Macon has implemented to keep our city safe, well, I fully support them."


Thamalys shifted a good portion of his weight across his right leg, the left one stretching a bit - Winged Beasts are meant for the skies, after all. “Your Majesty - deepest apologies, some of my manners I still have to polish, things used to be quite… different in the Flying City with respect to salutations. Anyway…” he voiced in a deep tone, one more gaze dedicating to the fleeing red headed girls, at that stage almost vanished within the innards of Larket, “… absurd accusation, aye? Maybe. And yet, if even I have heard such a silly hypothesis, half-hidden as I was in some remote Frostmawian corner… I would suggest these rumours would have to be addressed. Dismantled, if they are really untrue, and swiftly enough, for the sake of the City. Ah, well. It is very good news in any case. So…” he proceeded, casually sidestepping toward the edge of the gazebo, a bony hand running on the fabric of its ceiling, “… I suppose Her Majesty would not have anything to object to my today’s errand? Which, in fact, does involve taking a particular Witch with me, to Frostmaw that is - I am in dire need of some specific magic… and as you said, Witches can be incredibly skilful. However, I still doubt some of them would have managed to bring that havoc to the City. I saw the House of Ara after the quake… ah, by the Wind… such a loss…” he went, plainly saddened by the mere memory of the only place he dared to call home torn into a pile of ruins. “Yes, I am grateful to King Macon and Her Majesty alike for all the efforts they are putting to rebuild Larket… but I feel Witches and Mages would hardly suffer to be somehow kept into place by whoever, the Crown included. The Academy managed to regulate these business quite nicely… why, maybe I should have one more word with Valen, see whether we can take stock of the situation… ah, but I am stealing a whole chunk of your precious time, Your Majesty. Again, apologies. Do I then have your permission to collect that Witch I was talking about? A matter of a few days and she’ll be back safe and sound…” he concluded, his face a still mask of gleaming marble, the ivy-shaped tattooed covering his jaws curling slightly into the pale light.


Josleen nods amicably as Thamalys seems to back off the accusations and suggest their publicity could use a make-over. Indeed, and her silence is admission enough that he has an undeniable point there. "Yes, a true loss," she says with genuine sympathy for the House of Ara's recent troubles. Then Thamalys asks for permission to 'take' a witch. "I am confused by the question. ...Are you asking me if you may abduct a witch? Who, may I have her name? And also, no. You may not abduct Larketian citizens, witches or otherwise. That is a crime." She states this with the incredulity such a question merits (though it is likely she misunderstood him).


Thamalys went to decisively shake his head, hands following that motion via a most plain gesture. “No no no, I would never! This particular witch - whose name, I am afraid I cannot reveal, not even to Her Majesty, she has agreed time ago to follow me into Frostmaw for a little while… she also knows I am about to get to her!” clarified the Blue, a sort of a sick smile surfacing on those thin, grey lips.


Josleen narrows her gaze on Thamalys's suspicious shiftiness. "I see. Larket citizens who have not been charged with a crime are free to come and go as they please..." Though if a witch were to go missing, the Queen now has a prime suspect, thanks to this misunderstanding. "Well, I should take my leave. I hope I've been helpful in putting malicious rumors to rest." She glances at her guard and nods to indicate she is ready to move.


Thamalys nodded intently. "Most excellent, most excellent..." he uttered in an eerily merry tone. "Yes, please, I am aware I did steal a lot of your time. I shall thank you for your clarifications, Your Majesty, and be sure to make clear the view of the Crown about this particular business with the Witches - the Healer's Guild thanks you one more time, our appreciation of the Larketian Rulers as genuine and strong as ever. Farewell..." he concluded, a rather deep bow managing to produce before stepping back from Queen and guards alike. Interestingly enough, though, the Blue did not seem to be interested in flying away at all. In fact, he would have dashed toward that particular alley where the two red headed girls disappeared moments before - to what end, only the Wind would have known...