RP:Names, Regrets, and Gossip
Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc
Summary: Queen Josleen visits the Royal Botanist Callum to hear his version of what happened to Rachelle, and finally learn Rachelle’s identity. They discuss Callum’s future at the Larket Academy of Magic.
Botanical Gardens, Larket
Josleen arrives at the Botanical Gardens with a small entourage: one guard (her favorite of the guards), one handmaiden (her favorite of the maidens), and the Prince (her favorite of all who draw breath). Prince Guillem is walking already, admittedly with the help of his mother who holds both his hands above his head as she shuffles behind him. Half his steps land correctly, and those that don’t suffer no consequence thanks to his mother’s hovering. “Good boy, Guillem! That’s it,” she coos whenever he recovers from a wobbly pace. It’s fall, so the Prince is dressed warmly in baby furs including a full baby raccoon hat with the furry head visible above the child’s brow. A gift from grandma (Josleen’s mother, not all ghoulish gifts can be attributed to Macon’s side of the family). “We’re going to visit Mr. Rochester. He’s a botanist. Do you know what a botanist is? Can you say botanist?” “Bobbist,” Guillem says. “Close enough!” Josleen quips proudly to Floria, her handmaiden. Once they find Callum, she drops the baby voice for an adult voice befitting a Queen. “Callum! Lovely to see you. I hope this isn’t a bad time?” Guillem pokes a mushroom.
Callum knew this was coming, right? He had to have known, especially after so many guards had seen him helping Rachelle. But, that doesn’t make him any less antsy now as Josleen and company makes themselves known right directly behind him. Well, he’s not -that- antsy, but suddenly being happened upon by his employer at work is enough to get anyone a little riled up. Notebook of his daily checks, and a pen to accompany it, in hand, the botanist turns around with a warm smile, “Your Majesty! What a pleasant surprise. Of course it’s not a bad time. Just doing my checks is all, making sure things are running smoothly as usual.” He saw Guillem poke that mushroom and silently thanked all of the gods that it wasn’t a poisonous one. Could you imagine if the kid had picked the wrong one and chomped on it instead? Cal would probably faint. Then he’d have to sort out an antidote. There’d likely be Josleen freaking out to deal with and Macon would probably appear out of nowhere and pummel Callum into the ground after Cal fixed the kid. Chaos, man. Pure chaos. “What can I help you with?”
Josleen gives Callum a pleadingly weary adorned with a faraway smile. He knows why the Queen is here, and she isn’t loving anymore than he the tale of Muzo the Butcher chopping up the living. Macabre, sick. How could this happen? What role did Josleen play is empowering Muzo? She’s been wrestling with questions of her guilt since the news reached her, but today she comes to Callum with a different set of questions. She hands Guillem off to Floria and says to her entourage, “Leave us.” Once the Prince, Florida, and Roald the Kingsquard have left the immediate area, Josleen turns her attention back to Callum and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to see how you are doing, after all that happened. Muzo’s on the run, you know. We’re pursuing him.” Sort of. She twists the truth effortlessly--the talent of a bard. “How are you coping?”
Callum closed the tiny notebook and stuck it into the inside pocket of his waistcoat, his hands soon clasping behind his back. He wondered if they were really pursuing the naga, but didn’t voice his concerns there--there was no telling how much they really knew of what Muzo was doing. Maybe for once they weren’t actually to blame? Who knows. The gods maybe, but surely not Callum. Too much digging in that department was dangerous right now--not just for him, but for Meri as well. “Well enough, I suppose. I apologize for not seeking you out and providing my own intel on the matter. Things were chaos enough and I figured you’d find me when things were ready to be dealt with.” His own truths were twisted much like her own; there were similarities between the bard and this rogue, if only in the way words were spun.
Josleen walks towards a path, expecting Callum to accompany her, then down the path towards semi-circle of three decorative benches. She nods her head in a sign of forgiveness when Callum explains why he did not seek her out. Josleen was avoiding this too. She had personal demons to wrestle with. Macon helped her wrestle them. “Well, you can tell me now,” she says as she sweeps her long, heavy gown to one side and sits daintily on a bench. “What happened?”
Callum walked with the Queen as she wished, his attention split between her and the gardens during the duration, his watch ever vigilant for signs of near-death or death itself within the greens that he was tasked with tending to. When she stopped, so too did he, but he remained standing instead of seating himself next to her. “I was delivering the herbs to Muzo as I have been since it was asked of me. When I got there, there was a commotion going on down below. I looked to see if I could be of some assistance to the guards--by way of protection, of course, as I’m not one to physically get involved--and found the young woman lying there on the table. I had seen her once or twice when I worked in Kelay, and after getting her out of the castle and away from that monster, I found that my suspicions about her were correct: her father is a well-regarded merchant in that region and she is most certainly -not- a witch. She uses magic, as many of us here in Larket and throughout Lithrydel do, but she is not of those whom you seek.”
Josleen‘s brows lift and she rears her head back in surprise. She had heard reports of the commotion and what happened in the lab from the guards in the castle. This is the first time she hears that Muzo’s victim was not a witch. What a disaster--not that if his victim were a witch that would be okay (but also, maybe a little bit okay/easier to explain/Josleen’s prejudice is real even if she denies it). “Who is she? What is her name? Where is she now?”
Callum let out a heavy sigh. Perhaps he’d been too quick to judge the Queen for Muzo’s actions, now that her reaction to the news had been seen. “Her name is Rachelle Fournier. She’s an enchantress that works out of the restaurant in Kelay--you know, runes and such on weapons and armor and whatever sort of item you can think of. I know not of her whereabouts currently, but Meri and I did see to it that she was returned to her home.” The raven-haired Catalian frowned a bit, “She was cut open, Your Majesty. Cut wide open and her insides laid bare for all to see. She told us Muzo was keeping her alive, by way of some strange potion--a potion that likely came from my own herbs. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible; an unwilling accomplice to this atrocity.” His hands unclasped from behind his back finally and splayed out in front of him as if to say ‘I had no idea. Please don’t have me killed.’ “It is for that very reason, my need to atone, that I wanted to learn to use my magic for healing, to help do some good here in Larket, but the Mage’s Guild would not have me.” Okay, so that wasn’t specifically the reason. A close friend of Meri’s had died horribly and -that- was the thing that prompted him to want to do so, but! what Josleen doesn’t know won’t kill her, right?
Josleen commits Rachelle’s name to memory. When Callum mentions in grisly detail how he found Rachelle, Josleen presses her fingertips to her lips as if to keep the bile from rising. She shakes her head in disbelief and horror, then shudders visibly. “You are not at fault, but I understand your self doubt. I, too, feel guilty. I had no idea, and yet I should have known, shouldn’t I have?” Reparations are owed, to make both Rachelle and Josleen whole for different and incomparable reasons. The Queen’s burden is dwarfed by Rachelle’s trauma. Josleen knows this and cannot begin to imagine just how much the enchantress suffers. She takes in a deep breath and releases it in shuddered exhales as Callum continues with his redemption plan. “The Mage’s Guild won’t have you?’ Josleen says distantly. It takes her a moment to shake off the clammy grip of terror that took her when she thought of Rachelle. Eventually she’s able to focus on Callum’s goals. “Won’t have you?” She clarifies as the meaning sinks in. “How? Why? That’s preposterous.” She pauses, thinks about it, balks again at an invisible enemy. “You know of my father and his long tenure at the guild. I could ask him to put in a good word for you, if that’s what you’d like. It’d be no trouble at all.”
Callum merely nodded at her similar sentiments with regards towards Rachelle, “How were you to know that something so sinister was going on beneath your very feet? I have met only a few of his kind, but I did bear witness to the slaying of the one who would be queen, Reginae, and by her own flesh and blood no less. I do not put it past him, or others of their race, to be so cunning and sneaky and seek to even manipulate someone as powerful and all-seeing as yourself, Your Majesty. He then shook his head and shrugged when the guild was spoken of, “I think that perhaps, it would be best that I don’t. At least, for now. I was treated very poorly after I sought to call out the mage that was my opponent for the test given to me--I believe he cheated and they also seem to care only about themselves. While I would appreciate any help you might give me there, Meri and I have talked it over and I’d been meaning to address it with you. I’d like to join Larket’s school, if it’d be allowed. I would not be overly burdened by whatever lessons I would do there, so it would not affect my job here. And, if it truly did happen, I would certainly seek out an assistant. Your gardens come first, of course.”
Josleen scoffs where appropriate as Callum recounts his tale of woe, immediately Team Callum, as Josleen is naturally a tribal woman. “A cheat! My gods, what is the world coming to.” She thinks of her son’s curse, and the curse that afflicts all newborns in Larket. It’s never far from her mind. What -has- the world come to, where even unborn, innocent babes are targeted? “Of course you can join the school. I send a letter of recommendation myself to Headmaster Percival. He’s a friend of the King’s. And yes, this garden is large and you would need an assistant soon as-is, so this is all perfectly reasonable. But tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing on the opportunity for gossip, “Who at the guild administered your test?”
Callum grinned somewhat at Josleen’s cooperation in the matter, but even slightly moreso because of her eagerness to hear the culprit’s name, “A Master Oriyan gave out the test, Your Majesty. My opponent was a terramancer by the name of Odhranos Kerrigan. He was very keen on gloating about how well off the guild is and how they have no need of money. The two of them saw fit to make me out as a fool because I assumed that the cost of entry would be in the form of gold. I know how things in the real world work, even if they do not, and that’s by way of cold, hard gold. I’m surprised that someone as wise as your father continues to remain within the guild with that lot, but I know his dedication is to his work and I imagine he is not at all deterred by those types of mages.”
Josleen gasps at the name Odhranos, then grins impishly at the revelation. “No! Odhranos? I know him,” she says conspiratorially. “My father has been at the Guild so long, he’s weathered many administrations and will outlive them all, if the gods fulfill his prayers. But did you know Odhranos was married to Larket’s former apothecary, the caretaker of the Botanical Gardens before you, Artia. She designed the gardens. Maybe he has a lasting hatred for botanists after that.” The Queen winks playfully, amused by her own joke. “He’s a noble fellow at heart, though. A bandit tried to rob me once, before I was married to the King, and Odhranos stopped the thief. But you know… his politics are rather…” She shrugs with feigned tolerance for the opniinons of others. Again, she’s quite tribal. It made her a good Thane, a better Queen, an ideal wife. Us versus them, always. “Sometimes well-intentioned people have funny notions. He shares in the opinion that the King has taken too harsh a posture in trying to discover and stop the recent crop of bad witch covens. I assure you the King had no idea about what Muzo got up to behind our backs either. But of course he’s concerned about witches. There was the coven abducting children in Venturil earlier this year, and the protests, the riots, the hex on me, and there’s all the curses happening now. No one knows what’s behind the curse, and yet if you float the idea that it may be yet again a wicked coven, people like Odhranos and Pilar--do you know her?--Well people like them would have you hung for being a bigot.”
Callum shook a finger at Josleen, and let out an ‘aha!’, “You know, that might be it. He didn’t seem to take too kindly to things when I told him that I’m the Royal Botanist. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.” It’s not because his bosses are crazy or anything with this witch-hunting, you know. No way. Never. “It’s unfortunate that he feels that way. I know that you and the King are doing your best when it comes to such matters as the witches. It seemed like a clashing of personalities mostly, but Oriyan taking Odhranos’ side in such things did not make the guild fair well in my eyes. As for Pilar, I have met her once. She wanted help in finding a cure for the plague that had taken over her town. I gave her some herbs to try, and since she did not return, I am assuming it did not work. With that in mind, and with how much witches lean on herbs as well to make their foul magic work--as much as it sickens me to admit that; I don’t like that my own work might get misconstrued as witchcraft--I’m starting to wonder if it’s not something more sinister than that. It seems like dark magic is definitely at play, but even witches have their limits. Perhaps you might reach out to someone in Vailkrin. I know nothing of dark magic, but there are certainly those in that city that might be able to assist you--necromancers, perhaps that are well known with their work and aren’t skulking around in the shadows like these witches.”
Josleen nods at Callum’s sage advice without committing to any action thereafter. “It’s been difficult to distinguish between the various forms of magic, but there is some something distinctly primal about witchcraft, isn’t there? And that’s not inherently evil, but as herbs are not inherently evil, but both herbs and witchcraft can be used for good and evil, and we must admit, no matter how unsavory, that we are living through a time when some witches are misusing their craft. Well,” she says abruptly, signaling the visit has come to its end. “I must go.” She misses her son already. His curse has made her desperate to miss not a second more than is absolutely necessary. “It’s been good to speak with you. I’ll write to Headmaster Percival as soon as I reach my desk. Do take care, and say hello to Meri from me.”
Callum nodded in understanding, “Absolutely. I will alert you with any further news on any of the fronts we spoke of, Your Majesty, the instant I hear about it.” In Cal speak, that would translate into ‘you’ll hear about it after I’ve done some digging of my own’, as usual. And then, once she was gone, he’d return to the last of his tasks so that he could go home and see that woman of his and tell her EVERYTHING.