Irillo — Wine And Relics
Season/Week/Day/Time and Notable Context. [[[s01:session-38|Session 38]]]
At the table where they are, in a quiet moment, Berra asks Irillo how Serzeen is.
“Good. She’s good. At least, when I left Nochet. Why?”
“Oh, you were getting on well with her. I wanted to see how someone you liked was. It’s good she’s well.”
“Um. Yes. It’s nothing official. At least, she’s not asked me.”
“S’fine. I don’t need to pry. It’s just good, is all.” A shrug, and back to beer.
He grins, “Well, you know how it is. She’s a rune lady of a cult which stays home, I’m an initiate of a cult which travels.”
“Well, that just means you can pick the bits you want, right?” A sidelong look, a wink.
He laughs, “Yes. And likewise so can she. But for now, a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and good company. It will be different if she is Blessed by Ernalda, maybe. But still not necessarily.”
“Nng. Yeah. You’ll still be a traveller. Too far ahead to look.” Berra falls silent again, but now it looks like she is thinking.
He pours a goblet of wine, and offers it to you. “Thoughts for yourself? The travel doesn’t stop you having an anchor.”
“Me? No, hell no.” Berra looks at her beer, and back at the wine. “More water in it, please? I like red more, to be honest. But no, I’m trying to stay away from all that anyhow. The clearer I can be of human attachments, the better I can serve the Storm Tribe.”
He considers this, as he adds more water, “The Esrolian way.” He notes, although whether it’s of the wine, or the attitude. Or the option. “Whatever brings Harmony to you, I think. It’s certainly easier, perhaps, for the Champion to be of society, without being in it.”
“For me, it’s about not giving protection against Death, when I am Death. How I get there doesn’t matter so much.” She drinks and winces, and says, “Not bad. You’re playing my High Sword in a Heroquest.”
The wince was a little late to be for the taste of the wine.
“I am. Which was… unexpected.”
“You might not know this, and I don’t know how they do it in other cults, but I’m expected to report on any Quest I am in, especially if Humakt may be involved, or if I’m playing the God.”
“I don’t. We don’t have that sort of rule. More sort of… guidelines.”
“Well, it’ll happen. When he learns of this, he’s going to want to know that you behaved absolutely correctly. I mean, I don’t think it’s possible for you to be doing what you’re doing, but that won’t change his mind.”
Irillo winces slightly, “I think I did, yes. The mission before personal honour. Sacrifices for the Common Weal.”
“Yes. If you want, I could have you make that statement, like I’m going to. Then it will be a matter of record within the Temple, and he’ll know who knows. It would have to be with people he might not like, but it’ll be two Sword Lords, and me.”
He shrugs, “Is it necessary?”
“No, not at all. Not for you. It might make things easier, or it might make things harder. It depends on whether you want to answer the questions to him personally, later.” Berra drinks her wine with an Esrolian accent drifting into her words, and her hand holding the flat cup as if she is almost civilised.
Okay, yes, that gets his attention, “So, this would put him off?”
“It would mean you had been examined already, so he would have no reason to do so in depth. But the only person who could write down what happened would be D’Val, so the High Sword would probably end up liking you less.” She shrugs. “That is a thing only you can decide, really. He’s a man of honour, but that does not mean he can’t be petty. He carries the weight of the Wyter – the weight of a grudge would be nothing to him.”
“Does the Iron Lord write? Or… I suppose, I could write it down.”
“D’Val writes. You can’t be the scribe, though, if you’re the one speaking. I suppose it is just possible that we could use Xenofos but the scribe should be a member of the Temple and I don’t think he would want to be even a Lay Member.”
“Probably not. And he would hold a grudge because a duck Wrote something?”
“Because a Duck knew something. To be honest he’ll probably be irritated at me as well, but I know how to handle that.” Berra speaks lightly, and the Esrolian accent does not quaver.
“We can wait, then, and do it when he’s back.”
Berra nods. “You can probably offer to have it done under Temple terms. That would get witnesses and sureties, and whatever the hell is going on should be written down and examined anyhow because frankly it scares the hell out of me.”
It being a bowl of wine that Berra holds, she offers it over to share.
He takes it and drains a large slug, “Me too.”
“Whatever we are doing, it doesn’t feel finished yet. But are we going to find out what happened, or find the Relics?”
“Or possibly both.”
“I sort of meant, what’s our intent here?”
“Right now? I’m not sure. I think we need to find the relics to find out what happened. And vice versa.”
Berra nods, taking it in. She reaches for the wine and sips at it. “When we find them, the trouble starts. Do you have a plan for that?”
“Not really. A lot will depend on who has them and why they haven’t resurfaced. If they’re in the hands of Eril’s old clan, then it depends on why they haven’t handed them back. It may be one we drop in the High Sword’s lap, and run away.”
“That seems appropriate. He started this. He can finish it.” It sounds more like belief in the High Sword than a threat of reprisals, the way Berra says it.
After the clearwine, Berra calls for a single bowl of red, and sinks into it to do her thinking.