RP:The Benevolent Warlord
Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc
Summary: Hildegarde and Ashe travel to Gualon in search of Tristram, a renowned warlord, to implore his aid. Frostmaw and Gualon have been allies for some time and Hildegarde can think of no other who she would want to fight by her side to help her reclaim Frostmaw. Tristram listens carefully to Hildegarde's plea and plots to help (or hinder) her cause. He insists she stay in Gualon for her safety, bestowing a wing of his grand estate unto her so she might rest peacefully.
Gualon City Plaza
Hildegarde, having ran into Ashe and explained how she had risen from the dead, had enlisted the help of Ashe in Xalious at the Dancing Destrier. Ashe would be assisting her in her journey to find allies and regain her strength before she attempted to reclaim Frostmaw; convincing her he would be an asset to her cause with his persuasive abilities and stealthy knowhow from that Cenril upbringing. He’d have street-smarts to counteract her honourable head-held-high mannerisms. With Ashe by her side, the knight had decided it was high time to secure her first ally and that was the one she trusted the most. Though one might think two dragons would likely kill each other – and boy, had these two come close to that! – Hildegarde looked to Tristram with respect and friendship. A man she could call friend and ally comfortably. “He doesn’t know we’re coming,” she reminded Ashe, “but he’s the only one I can look to for help right now,” he was the only real ally she had remaining. “We have to find the Governor. Tristram must at least listen to me.”
Ashe appeared a tad diffrent from how he'd presented himself in Frostmaw. As he walked onto the plaza alongside Hildegarde, he was without the black feathered cloak and he lacked the tailored vest. Instead, he had simply the white undershirt with rolled-up sleeved and the collar unbottened half-way down his torso. Though he still sported the pants with the miss-matching colors and his usual tinted spectacles. On his back he carried a lute and at his hip the quiver for a bow he didn't seem to be carrying. Befitting this appearence, the Bard himself looked to be completely in his element. Relaxed to the point of leisure. It was unclear if he was even listening, his eyes apparently caught by some pretty thing passing them by. ”I wouldn't say 'only'...” he returned rather casually to Hilde. ”Prefferable, certainly.” he turned half way to watch his sudden object of interest vanish and then looked back to his patron. ”I don't imagine that'll particularly challanging. It's the proceedings from there on I'd be worrying about. If I was the kind to worry.” the last bit added with a sharp smirk.
Tristram had found a perch in the bronze tree that presided over the gilded courtyard that framed the city’s largest intersection. Orphans were sprawled around on the steps and in the tree as well, but a dozen or so were standing on the checkerboard in random positions, wearing random hats or wielding random weapons (most of them wooden, though a few were real). Two orphans from either side of the ‘game’ ran up to the tree and handed Tristram two slips of paper. He read them to himself, looked down at the board, and then shouted the two sets of coordinates given to him by both opponents. The orphans who corresponded to those squares squealed and charged at each other, battling until one gave up and the square was taken by the victor in a game that was some kind of mashup of the strategy games Battleship and Chess. Suddenly, a whistle went up from near the city gates, carried back through the city. Activity ceased until a second whistle echoed the first, more lower-pitched. “Huh.” Tristram lifted his hand to shield his eyes, straining to see down the road. “We have a visitor. Dragon.” He waited until the visitor was within sight before cracking a small smile. “Who is it?” A small girl unwound herself from a bronze tree limb and held her hands out to be helped down. Tristram took one of her arms and helped lower her to a waiting pair of orphan arms below. “The great lady of the north. And an attache, perhaps.” When Hildegarde was closer, he lifted his hand to her in greeting from his perch in the tree. “Ahoy, Hildegarde the Silver. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He glanced at Ashe, acknowledging the man’s presence, but withholding greeting until Hildegarde proffered an introduction.
Hildegarde could hear signs of a fight, though it was interlaced with childish laughter meaning it could only be a playfight! She hadn’t heard those sort of sounds for some time. She almost missed it. As Tristram greets her from his perch in the bronze tree, the knight bowed stiffly at the waist; those stitches about her chest and other bruises still very tender but nothing would get in her way from affording the appropriate respect to this dragon. “Tristram,” she replied, “this is my associate, Ashe.” With that introduction over, the knight immediately got to the point of her visit. “I do not know how much you have heard,” she glanced to a little gaggle of orphans, “but I died a month ago. Obviously, I’m back. But Frostmaw has been taken from me. A dissenter has wiggled me out of my own city and I have not the strength yet to return. Only the strongest may rule Frostmaw,” she said, fingers flexing around the shaft of her common steel halberd, “and I am not at my strongest.” The knight can see one of the orphans glancing at her weapon and she offers them a little smile. “Gualon is Frostmaw’s strongest, greatest and most trusted ally. I trust you personally, Tristram. I see you as a friend and a plain speaking one at that. I ask you for help.” It is clear to see that the Silver dragon is uncomfortable in the heat of Gualon, but she would tough it out for this.
Ashe bowed too. Though he was less knightly about it and more akin to a preformer bowing to their audience from the stage. If he had been wearing a hat once could be sure he would've sweapt it with a flourish. Though he didn't speak. Apparently quite comfortable having Hildegarde speak for herself. And why not? If her plain and blunt approach bothered him at all, he didn't show any signs of it. If anything, the man seemed more concerned with trading looks with the surrounding children than weighing in on the conversation.
Tristram canted his head in greeting to the bard. “Ashe.” He listened as Hildegarde spoke, and he began a slow descent from the tree as the purpose for her presence became clearer. By the time she’d finished speaking, he was on even ground, hopping down a last step to level footing. He gestured for Wes to take over his position in the game, and he gestured for Hildegarde and her aide to come away from the main hub of the city and the many keen ears paying close attention. He wouldn’t have Hildegarde petition for help out in the open, however good it might be for his ego. He walked to the west, to his estate and away from prying eyes. “And who is this dissenter? What number does he command?”
Governor's Estate
Hildegarde would have considered kneeling if it helped her cause any, but fortunately Tristram is a classy fellow and leads Hildegarde and Ashe off towards his estate for a more private conversation. “From what I have gathered from those who have been giving me information, the main dissenter is one named Balgruuf. He is an old warrior of renown in Frostmaw, now a wealthy merchant. He’s sought for his advice, along for his wealth. Right now, he’s likely in command of a small force but I have heard he has forced an exodus of immigrants; expelling them from Frostmaw. If he’s got any sense about war, which he does, he’ll have barred the city gates and will be consolidating control of the throne and the military as we speak. I am but one dragon. I cannot face an entire army in this state,” she said, implying she might consider it if she were at her peak health! “Josleen is sheltering me in Xalious,” the climate was a bit more agreeable to her, “but I cannot live there as a refugee. Nor can I abide this serpent to steal the throne from my Queen.” The Silver paused for a moment before shaking her head, “Josleen said she had some kind of idea pertaining you, but I know not the nature of this idea. All I know is… you are my only hope, Tristram.”
Ashe followed idly. He was just sort of having his hands in his pockets. Which, while unfit for most meetings such as this, seemed strangley befitting the rather unceremonial attitude of this one. Of course, things became a little less laid back with the change of venue. Upon arrival to the estate, Ashe pushed his spectales a slight lower on his nose and peered over them at their surroundings while Tristam lead them along. Still, he didn't offer any needless comment on Hildegarde's... shall we say 'presentation'. Though he did have further information: ”The city of war is in an uproar. The more 'traditional' giants resent the council and their ties with outsiders. These dissenters are of the old way. Isolationist. Xenophobic.” he made a bit of a face with a last, inappropriately sarcastic. ”What with the cat gone...” a saying strangely descriptive of the situation. ”Point is. There is no reasoning with these folk.”
Tristram walked into his foyer and shook his head at Jacobo, who materialized almost instantly. Jacobo opened the study doors for the dragons (and non-dragon), and then closed them, leaving the three in privacy. The Governor listened to the information Ashe provided him, nodding once or twice in understanding. The man’s last comment drew a smirk from the dragon. “Try reasoning with orcs, mate.” Tristram moved around his desk to sit in his wingback chair, stretching out there as he considered Hildegarde’s predicament; in truth, it was a bit more than a predicament. It was a bad situation. Bad to be seen as weak, bad to be weak, period. He’d been kept abreast of the developing situation in Frostmaw, but frustratingly, information about Hildegarde seemed either conjecture or completely unavailable. But here she was, dead, back again … he’d have to get the details on that later … and weak. Could he take Frostmaw? His army was raring for battle, the orcs restless and in need of some kind of violent divertissement. He could take Frostmaw. The problem would be ruling Frostmaw. And it was so bloody cold there, it’d be misery. But if there was ever a chance to take Frostmaw for himself.. He stared at the Silver and her companion for a few more extended moments of silence before he finally nodded to her. “Then you have my help, Hildegarde.”
Hildegarde is no warlord. She is but a knight of good intentions and honour, she has no concept of ruling and of conquest. “I am glad,” she said with visible relief. “You’re a good man, Tristram,” she smiled broadly, “and a good friend,” if only she could read minds! The Silver chortled slightly, “Why, if you weren’t in that fancy chair of yours, I’d probably give you a hug!” His support meant much to her, that was clear. “But Ashe is right, there is no reasoning with these people. However… they are my people. I would rather do what I can to keep them alive.”
Ashe said and did nothing to dissuade Hilde's enthusiasm or question Tristams sudden willingness to help with so little discussion. Instead, he simply half-bowed with a nod in a token gesture of appreciation on behalf of his patron, and offered a somewhat sarcastic: ”You can see our predicatment.” with a gesture at Hildegarde after her comment of unshaken loyalty to her people. The same people that had driven her out of the lands she supposedly presided over.
Tristram managed a small smile as Hildegarde extolled his virtues, but there was a bit of uneasiness there. Of course he wouldn’t invade Frostmaw. Probably not. He probably would not invade Frostmaw. “You can save your hug for someone who’s less likely to take it in the direction I would, Silver.” He flashed a quick, shameless grin. “Save one of those nice big blue gems you have up there for me. So Josleen has a plan. But you don’t know what it is.” He glanced at Ashe and raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what it is?”
Hildegarde had almost forgotten Tristram was a shameless womaniser, what with his almost honourable pledge of assistance, so when he swiftly reminds her she nearly snorts with amusement. “Satoshi warned me about you,” true story. “But consider it done. A big blue gem,” she assured. As Tristram asks whether Ashe is aware of Josleen’s plan, the knight looked to the persuasive bard. Did he? Probably not. He couldn’t possibly! But he was sneaky. But surely not.
Ashe smiled mischeviously at the two, taking advantage of the situation to pause for dramatic effect. He folded his arms behind him and shifted a foot sideways. He almost looked proffessional for a split second. ”I'd say I don't know enough.” he said, rather evasively. A half answer at best.
Tristram couldn’t shake the boyish smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Satoshi warned you, huh.” He shook his head and glanced at Ashe, awaiting the bard’s answer or, non-answer, as it were. “You don’t know enough? The plan is quantitative in nature?”
Hildegarde raised a hand as Tritsram began to press Ashe for more details. “It’s Josleen’s plan. Better it remains only in her head and not in ours, in case someone reaches us, don’t you think?” she reasoned, making it seem logical that Josleen knew of the plan. “I will bring Josleen to Gualon or you can come to Xalious to hear the details of the plan. Either way, hear of it you will.”
Tristram deferred to Hildegarde and stopped trying to glean any more information from Ashe. He glanced at the Silver, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you safe in Xalious? The political situation there doesn’t seem entirely … well. Stable. Is this Balgruuf a man of good connections? Because Xalious is not exactly … easily defensible. Anyone can sneak in and do any manner of … seedy activities.”
Hildegarde paused at Tristram’s question. It was an appropriate and good question to ask. “I do not think I am all that safe in Xalious, but I think my being there is putting Josleen and her family at risk and that is not something I am comfortable with. It is where Balgruuf would expect me to go,” she said in a thoughtful murmur. “He is a merchant. Merchants have good connections in order to be successful, which he is if his wealth is anything to go by,” she reasoned, “and considering his desire to find me before I left Frostmaw, I would think seedy activities are a possibility… What do you suggest I do?”
Ashe tilted his head somewhat and looked over to Hildegarde with a gradually rising eyebrow. Before Tristam could answer, the bard interjected a counter-point. ”Ah. But you forget a key aspect.” he started. ”The people of Xalious adore you.” was the main and first delivered point. ”That is a better protection than most walls or armies can offer. Any fort can contain a traitor to be bought. One man on the inside is all it takes. People who love you will not be bought by money or influence. Though he may watch you in Xalious, quite easily, you will be harder to reach there than any other place I can think of.” he made a dismissive gesture. ”Barring a blatant invasion.”
Tristram listened quietly as Hildegarde explained her position in Xalious, and remained silent as Ashe made his counterpoint. He reached up to itch his stubble and leaned back in his chair. “Ah, Ashe. She’s not worried for herself. She’s worried about those she’s putting at risk with her presence.” He stood from his desk. “I’ll arrange a suite for you here. Return to Xalious and make a show of feeling a bit ill. During your staged confinement, we’ll smuggle you here. If anyone misses you in Xalious, and let’s face it, information travels quickly, the orphans can disseminate any manner of rumors.” He moved around his desk and stopped to scrutinize the dragon. “Come with me.” Without looking back, he called for Ashe, “You too.” He exited his house and headed south at a clipped pace.
Gualon Clinic
Hildegarde was ready to point out that the adoration of the Xalious people was what made her want to leave it, but Tristram beat her to the punch. “Xalious is my home town. Those people would hide me and protect me, but they would do so at the cost of their own lives and I cannot live with that,” she admitted. “If Balgruuf asked for me over them, I would go,” and she’d go down swinging, that’s for sure. “If you are to smuggle me out, will you be able to smuggle Leone out as well? I’m sure you remember her. But she’s fallen ill. Gualon would be a safe place for her.” Being under Tristram’s scrutiny was not a comfortable thing. Certainly, many women would desire to fall under said scrutiny, but not Hildegarde. Tristram was a warlord of renown. He was Governor of Gualon for a reason, after all. Her ragtag set of armour and plain steel halberd had been salvaged from spares in the Frostmaw fort, her personal set still stuck in the Frozen Tundra but she followed him nonetheless.
Ashe followed as told. Rolling his eyes when Hildegarde wasn't watching. She wasn't an easy one to work with. Still. He didn't complain. Audibly. Instead he simply came along with a slightly furrowed brow and a throughful expression. With no chance to convince the dragon otherwise, there was little left but to make a plan. The bard formed the rear during their quick excursion through Gualon and was the last to step in through the door at their destination. One hand scratching at a beard he didn't have.
Tristram waved dismissively behind him as he crossed through the clinic. “Of course Leone is welcome. She lives here.” Although he had been seeing less of her lately.. “I’ll have a suite prepared for her as well, though I might be hard pressed to get her to stay in it. But the smithy is just next door to the estate if that is where she elects to stay.” He moved to the back of the room and descended a small ladder. At the bottom, he struck a flame to a torch and started making his way through the caverns.
Hildegarde nodded as Tristram happily confirmed Leone could stay in Gualon. “I do not know if she’ll be conscious… the clinic might be where she needs to be,” she informs him, still following him.
Ashe continued shadowing the two. He wasn't throwing any glances backwards but he was monitoring whether they were being followed in less obvious ways. ”The issue would be how to move her. I might have a few ideas. Though they aren't elegant.”
Lavender Pools
Tristram slowed as they reached an area in the caves with holes in the ground, carved into human-sized rectangles, and filled with lavender liquid. “She practically lives in the clinic, too. If she’s not a patient, she’s watching over someone who is.” An orphan appeared and Tristram jerked his head in the direction from which they’d come. The orphan scurried off. “These pools are known for their healing properties.” The orphan returned, carrying a small basket with a robe, a towel, a small privacy screen that could be unfolded. Tristram ruffled the boy’s hair as he scampered off again. The Governor crossed his arms over his chest. “Right. So you sit in there for an hour. Should help take the edge off. It promotes faster healing.” He looked at Ashe. “I can provide a carriage unless you have something different in mind for transportation?” Because that was how Tristram secreted some of his contacts and allies into his city unnoticed — disguising them as potential liaisons arriving by private carriage at all hours of the night. But it worked, and sometimes trade deals were struck by the time a rival figured out a deal was going down.
Hildegarde understood that pose: those crossed arms, that signalled ‘no arguing’ in all cultures. With the privacy screen set up, the knight shuffles over behind it to gain some privacy. “Fancy water,” the knight mutters as Ashe and Tristram talk more about the specifics of how to smuggle two people out of Xalious and into Gualon. With that discussion going on, Hilde has sufficient time and distraction to undress out of her ragtag armour and slip into the restorative pool. She sinks down low, counting on the lavender liquid to keep her modesty.
Ashe had taken a similar posture to Tristam. Standing alongside the dragon, making for two figures side by side communicating the same message. With Hildegarde complying, he turned his attention to the black rather than the silver. ”I can move a single person, without any luggage, in complete stealth without the person in question experiencing the journey.” he shrugged. ”It's a trick that could be used to move Leone in spite of her condition. It is a tad unorthodox, however. Not commonly-- or originally designed-- for use on living things.”
Tristram leaned against a stalagmite as he listened to Hildegarde disturb the bubbling liquid as she got into the bath. He glanced at Ashe and then lifted an eyebrow as the bard described his unique mode of transportation. He uncrossed his arms. “Well then. I’ll leave you in charge of the transportation logistics. I’ll get a wing set up in my estate so you’ll have room to ..” He glanced behind the screen. “… spread out. And have some privacy.” He extended his hand to Ashe. “A friend of Hildegarde’s is … an acquaintance of mine.” He took a step away and spoke a little louder for Hildegarde. “Enjoy your bath, Silver. Don’t stay and poke around too much down here. You might find something you shouldn’t.”
Hildegarde’s cheeks flushed red when Tristram glanced behind the screen. Though he surely didn’t see anything, she was a little bit embarrassed nonetheless. The girl likes her modesty. Yet as he walks away and warns her not to poke around, she chortled a little bit, “Oh, trust me, I won’t be poking around.” This bath thing felt pretty great, though.
Ashe took Tristams hand, equally luke-warm, and turned to watch the man leave. He was still facing the exit when he spoke up to Hildegarde again: ”Well then. I suppose you'll be staying here as I arrange for your friends transportation?” he turned around to face the screen. ”I suppose you're safe enough. Though I do wish you'd be more cooperative. Now, I realize you'd rather not endagner anyone. What I question is how you intend to fight a war with that mentality. You've allready been dead once. And I'll say, as a observant critic, your corpse didn't make a particularly inspiring commander.” he let out a sigh. He was more frustrated than genuinely concerned. ”Right. Well.” there was a cacaphony of noise as bags and odd items started appearing in Ashe's hands only for him to drop them onto the cave floor. Untill finally he'd wrapped the entire collection in his recognizable crow-feather cloak. ”Stow those away somewhere for me when you retire to wherever he puts you. I won't have room for them.” and with that, he turn and head down the same way Tristram had vanished. ”Untill later, Hilde.” Well look at that. He actually called her by name.