RP:Myrall in her Office

Part of the Rounding up the diseased individuals Arc

PART VI

Myrall in her office and beyond….

Myrall puts down her quill and calls ‘Come’ in answer to the sharp rapping on her door. The word has barely left her lips when a fresh faced soldier nervously enters the room, bowing deep before the woman, he stutters. “Ggggreetings Majesty, you ddd..desired I report to you?” Giving him the warmest smile she can muster in an attempt to put him at his ease, Myrall motions to the vacant chair opposite her. “Piran isn’t it? Please, sit. We have much to discuss, and I’d rather not develop a cricked neck from looking up at you, or have you incur a sore back from bowing down afore me.”

Myrall waits a moment, as the young man obeys her request, with a mumbled “Aye majesty, it is indeed Piran, Piran Merrymead of the Royal Guard.” The woman inclines her head slightly in acknowledgement. “Then welcome Piran Merrymead, you are probably wondering why I have asked you here, and I’ll not keep you in suspense a instant more than needs be I promise, but first let me say that when last we met,” she pauses for a moment, a slight shudder passing through her frame, as she remembers that cold night a few weeks ago when he stood guard with her, awaiting the arrival of Vlalkor’s forces from the east. “You served me well that night, and it is for that reason I have chosen you for this mission. Though I fear it will be an unpleasant task, and one I’ll not blame you if you refuse.”

Myrall watches the lads face closely, but does not wait to see if he has anything to say before she presses on “You have probably noticed that there are a number of our kinsmen wandering these lands, seemingly in the grip of some ague that effects both body and mind. I myself have encountered at least two such souls, though there may well be more. Do you know of what I speak?” This time she does break off long enough for a reply to be voiced. “Aye, M’lady, oft when on patrol in the early hours we happen across them in the streets, calling out gibberish to all who pass. Not just dwarves though, with my own eyes I have seen drows and ogres likewise afflicted.”

Myrall gives a sad nod the lines of worry around her eyes, almost seeming to deepen as she draws breath to answer him. “Aye, I am aware of them, though for now ‘tis our own kind that warrants my attention. I shall see what can about the rest when I know that the dwarves amongst them have been removed to a place of safety where they might be treated for what ails them.” She gives a small sigh before continuing “And this is where I am in need of your aid. For I charge you to take a small but skilled group of men from the guard, and round up these poor creatures, there is a place in Gaulon, well equipped to deal with them, and I desire that you escort each dwarf that shows even the slightest sign of this disease there, and deliver them to the person who runs the place. Tis known locally I believe as the CDC.”

Myrall opens her desk draw and removes two parchments, one smaller than the other and bearing the royal seal, this she hands over to the guardsman first “Here is a written copy of your orders, in case you should meet with resistance or a patrol from the Empire, and here” she hands him the other parchment “is a map of where it is you need to take these unfortunates.” The dwarf takes the first parchment and breaks the seal, his face solemn as he reads first the runic script, then the common translation beneath. He then takes the map and studies it carefully before placing it in his jerkin. “Very well majesty I shall do as you bid.” With that the young man makes to stand, and take his leave.

Myrall immediately holds out her hand to stay him a minute “Please, there are a few things I must add before you depart. First take this gold and equip the men you intend to take with you in clothes that that might be easily put to the torch when all is done. Secondly endure that you keep your noses and mouths covered at all times. I recommend a scarf or some such material for this.” She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a small leather pouch “There should be more than enough gold there to cover all expenses you incur. I also ask that you go to the tavern and procure for yourself a quantity the strongest spirit you are able, use this liberally to cleanse yourselves when all is done, hands, hair, beard, any part of you that has contact with these creatures must be treated so, even if it means bathing in pure alcohol. Do you understand?” despite the gravity of the situation she chuckles as the solider gives her a solemn nod. “Aye Majesty, I will so do.” Myrall gives him a warm smile “Very well, then away and tend to your duty, and with my blessing. Report back to me when all is done.” The young dwarf stands and bows once more before hurriedly taking his leave. The priestess watches him go, a mixture of relief and anxiety on her face as she thinks of the task that is before him.

Much, much later………

Myrall sits back in her chair, and passes a hand over her tired eyes, rubbing vigorously at them in an attempt to stave off sleep. Noticing that her candle is almost spent, she stands to retrieve another from the shelf behind her when a knock comes on the door. Wearily she calls “Enter”, turning quickly round curious to see who would come calling at such an hour, she is at once almost overwhelmed by the stench of whiskey. Covering her mouth and nose with her hand, she chuckles “Ah, Piran. You’re back. Did all go well?” The soldier stands shuffling his feet, his face drawn and tired “Aye Majesty, I did as you bid, and apart from a small scuffle with the Empire Guard on the Gaulon road all was as it should be.” The priestess frowns before answering. “The Empire Guard you say? Did you not show them your orders?” Piran shrugs in reply “Aye, I did, but ‘twould seem the fool of an ogre had no learning and could not read either the runes or the common, so I might as well have shown him my arse as that parchment.” He blushes furiously as he realises what he has just said, but well used to the crudities of soldier vernacular she merely laughs. “So tell me, how did you persuade him?” The dwarf looks to his boots and mumbles “With a little dwarven steel I fear M’lady. Though none were badly hurt, and it was but a few minutes added to our journey afore they let us be on our way.”

Myrall crosses to him and places her hand upon his shoulder “You did well, I am most pleased. I can see that as per my instructions you cleansed yourself in alcohol, but did yea burn the clothes you all wore as well?” she bites her lip as she waits on his reply. “Aye, M’Lady, every last stitch, and I told the men to be a cleaning of their swords in the whiskey an’ all? Was that alright?” she gives a pleased nod “Yes, yes indeed good thinking.” Reaching into her cloak she produces another purse. “Here, take this and your men and repair to the tavern, have a few ales on me. You’ve more than earned it this night.” Beaming from ear to ear the lad takes the pouch and hurries from the room, mumbling his gratitude over and over as he goes.