RP:If At First You Don't Succeed, BERSERKER

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Eirik, who has been exiled from Larket, runs into Queen Josleen who is glad to see him. Given the curse and growing anti-witch sentiment, she believes his exile may be lifted and he can help Larket exorcise its witch problem.

Xalious Village

Eirik found himself perusing through Xalious Village without any particular agenda in mind. Students of the nearby mages tower gathering in little clusters here and there; chatting about whatever lessons they had received this day. The Northman couldn't understand any of their workings. Illusions, arcane magic, etc. It was all some distant thing to his simple mind. As per usual the berserker is draped in the trappings of war. Blackened chainmail sleeves work their way up both arms and weave into fur covered leather and steel plate pauldrons. A silver stitched black leather jerkin adorns his torso and gives way to matching pants. Scuffed steel greaves start just below the knees and cover the tops of his booted feet. The infamous Brann Forbruker swings from left hip tied by the means of a leather baldric. Though a new ice axe dangles from the other hip. The Lycan isn't hard to spot, dressed as such and taller than the average man. If someone were looking for him, they shouldn't have any trouble.

Josleen arrived in Xalious yesterday with a small entourage of guards and handmaidens, her poodle Gigi, and her son Prince Guillem. Her father, a prominent scholar and member of the Mage’s Guild, had sent her a repentant letter asking her forgiveness and help in resolving a personal quarrel between himself and her mother. Even Queens must deal with family drama. She brought Prince Guillem to come see Grandpa, too. The young Prince walks hand-in-hand with his mother, his tiny body wrapped in warm clothes in an autumnal palette (his mother matches in a heavy golden and burnt orange gown and white fur coat). A math problem for Eirik: He was exiled from Larket in late March/early April, shortly after the Queen’s birthday, so just over 6 months ago. She was not pregnant at the time, or at the very least not showing. Even if she was pregnant then, which she wasn’t, but let’s say for the sake of argument that she was, still, the child should be a newborn unable to flip itself onto its stomach, let alone walk. The Prince looks to be just over two years old. Perhaps Eirik has heard of the curse that afflicts Larket, perhaps not. Either way, here we are with a chatty child who is babbling to Gigi a very detailed story in the incomprehensible language of toddlers. “That’s incredible!” Josleen gasps to egg her son on. Parents are uniquely capable of understanding their children’s gibberish. The Royal Entourage is leaving Xalious, en route back to Larket, though first Josleen wanted to walk the hyperactive Prince to tire him out before the long carriage ride. Even Queens must deal with toddler tantrums. She spies Eirik in the light midday crowd. “Eirik!” she calls to him in surprise. Remembering that he is ostensibly an enemy of the crown (hah! Such political theater, Josleen respects him and sees him as an important ally, in truth, especially now that the sting of the witch’s death has dulled and her son is cursed), Josleen signals for her handmaidens to watch Guillem as she approaches a magical antiques stall and signals for Eirik to pretend to buy enchanted pocket watches and magical snowglobes alongside her. If he obliges she says, “I am glad to see you! How are you? Still living in Venturil?”

Eirik kept those frigid silver eyes skipping from one stranger to the next. Some adorning hoods while others did not. "Excuse me," came the call of a redhead carrying far too many books as she brushes past the Berserker. It's just as it always had been. Life went on here in Xalious and he loved that his clan is based out here. Not many find the time to travel this way, save for mages and the few random merchants who made their way through. The tree was always a commodity for certain travelers. Though Eirik never found himself spending time there. Too much going on in his world to enjoy such idle time. Truth is, he should be back at the barracks, training new recruits. Putting together the attack. Those witches still ran amok in Venturil. He'd strangle them all with his own two hands if he has too. Eirik does catch the entourage, and notices the toddler alongside. Is she hanging out with someone else's child? No, she understood that childish gibberish. She must have given birth. This only seems to confirm Artias words; she wasn't lying. A curse really is affecting children. The Lycan meanders on to the stall Josleen had stopped at, trying his best to look as though they weren't chatting. "Actually, my clan has a barracks here in Xalious. That's where I've been recently. Training and preparing to take down the cult in Venturil." He smiles as he tosses a watch to the side. Junk. "I've been good. Stayed away as told. Though I must admit it's odd seeing you out this far." Silver eyes move over to the prince. "I do hope that everything is alright." These words are hinting that he had heard of the curse. "Congratulations." He refrains from calling her Queen, though he does want too. Perhaps its best that he continues to be nonchalant about this.

Josleen finds a tiny lyre that is silent in the air, but plays a beautiful melody when you hold it under water (your head must be submerged too, according to the note). Bath time music? Guillem will love this. She holds it with intent to buy, and continues picking through the items, most of which are junk with a few charming gems. “Oh it shouldn’t be. I was born and raised in Xalious. My parents still live here. I was just visiting.” A light fib, but her familial concerns are private, and, to outsiders, likely boring. “Thank you,” she says as her face brightens with pride. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” She glances over her shoulder at Guillem who petting Gigi’s hunched over back as Gigi poops. “Good job pooping! Good job pooping, Gigi!” Josleen laughs and turns back to the stall. Isn’t her son the funniest? Most charming? Obviously he is. She can’t wait to tell Macon. “Things are as good as they can be under the circumstances. I’m glad I can enjoy these moments but the King and I, like every parent in Larket, are tearing our hair out trying to find a cure to this curse. I’m sure you’ve heard about it? I am certain witches are behind it. I was hoping you’d have news about the witches in Venturil?”

Eirik cracked a toothy grin; those rows of ivory whites revealing themselves genuinely. "He is. The King must be proud. You must be too." Seeing the prince interacting with the dog that once tried to bury its nose in his nether regions nearly forces a laugh. "It's good to hear that." Eiriks mind drifts to the child he saved in Chartsend; Rachel. "In Venturil? They've dug in, reinforced their station, Highness. The Steel Collective has reported no outside activity from them since we began our preparations. If witches are behind the curse, it couldn't be from them." Silver eyes grow serious. "Do you have any reports on any other groups that could be responsible?"

Josleen finds yet another charming gem in the pile: a self-inking quill! She’ll have that too. It’s a good thing Macon is King, because Josleen has a talent for spending money on dumb things. The conversation turns more somber and she’s no longer capable of multitasking. Although Josleen recognizes ‘The Steel Collective,’ she does not say so. When she had hired them, it was when she thought Macon her enemy, and she hired them to steal from and spy on him. Remembering that time she turns bright red now without explanation, and she offers none, preferring instead to repress that part of her history. “I have a theory that there are multiple covens littered throughout the realm, but working loosely in concert with one another. Around the time that the curse took Larket, people disappeared from Cenril, a peculiar illness took Frostmaw and Chartsend, the avians in Schezerade became allergic to the sun, and the residents of Rynvale are no longer about to slake their thirst. So, I believe there must be covens with different aims in each of these areas, but the timing suggests that they must be working in tandem. Perhaps you could investigate the witches in Larket as well. Many of them live in a work compound on the edge of the city. Someone there must know something. Given the curse, many Larketians have grown rightfully suspicious of witches. Perhaps the King would be agreeable to lifting your exile in these extremely terrible times. The King may agree that we could use your expertise and experience in investigating witches.”

Eirik listens intently to Queen Josleens words. Nodding his head here and there at her opinions of multiple cults. She probably had one nesting within the very compound of Larket. The 'camp' his and her highness so generously granted them. Scum-sucking bottom feeders that those witches were. "My expertise?" Eiriks expertise in eradicating things? Or just perhaps his nosey presence would be enough to suffice. "Forgive my language, highness, but it’s a shame such atrocious things still lay-a-bout in your beautiful city." Pity no one has lifted a finger to remove them. Eirik lets a half grin besmirch his scarred visage. "I would be most honored to snoop around the compound and report my findings." He'd probably act on them first. Which is something he feels like she might be hinting at. Damned witches. An oath once sworn still burns within his mind’s eye. He won't stop until he gets every last one of them. "If my Exile is lifted, I will begin my investigation. Immediately. Do I have any cooperation with Larkets finest?" He's referring to the guards.

Josleen hints at nothing so violent, in truth, but she has no control over how people interpret her words, try as she might to be clear. She would prefer to catch and prosecute the guilty, but it’s true that her patience is worn through, and her capacity to tolerate a violent solution grows as quickly as Guillem does. Still, she cannot bring herself to admit that such a violent end would please her. “I will speak with the King and direct his response to you in The Steel Collective’s headquarters. I cannot speak for the particulars of any arrangement just now, but promise a reply.” She glances around the village square again. “I should get going.” Gigi is digging a hole in a plot of soil and Guillem is on his knees getting filthy. The handmaidens tried to stop him, but he threatened a tantrum and his will won the battle. “It’s been a pleasure to see you, Eirik. I hope to see you again in Larket.” She signals for the merchant to approach and she pays him for the two items.

Eirik gives a formal bow. Even if she didn't seek violence, such a thing might be a side effect of Eiriks presence. Perhaps he wasn't wanted in the camp? Who knows what would happen in the heat of the moment? Though investigating is something he would do. "Good day Queen Josleen. A pleasure to see you again." Eirik would wait until such a time as deemed appropriate to return, if he is even allowed too. "Safe travels to you and your son, the Prince of Larket."