1629, Storm Season, still early
Context
Venlar comes home in a hurry to tell Mellia they are suddenly leaving Boldhome. Session B7-1
Events
Shortly after the arrival of Serala, Rajar and the others from Esrolia, Venlar goes out to the Temple of Humakt, taking with him Dormal and Finarvi. He comes back with a sense of purpose, and lifts Mellia into the air to kiss her and put her down.
Mellia kisses him back. “I take it your trip to the Humakti went well?”
“Oh, it was terrible. Uncle was far too busy to see us, and Lady Graria did not have any guards to spare. However, I think I can find a few, and I can accompany Dormal away, or at least make sure he is seen to leave.” Venlar looks down at her fondly.
Mellia looks up at him. “Do you want me to come with you? You might need me. The helpers are good and Father hasn’t tried to be heroic lately.”
There is a slow shake of the head. “Father being back and forth to the Cinder Foxes and here gives him something to do. And I love you. But the twins are … the younger twins are small, and besides, I do not want to be noticed much. I stand out in a crowd but I need not bring the crowd with me.”
Mellia nods. “Be careful, my love. Rajar doesn’t know what he is doing when he is berserk. Is there anything else I should know?”
“We… probably do not need him, but we should not be long. I will tell you later, on my return, what I can.” Venlar takes a moment to embrace his wife carefully, savouring the moment. “Who knows, father may be back again today. If he is, tell him I am visiting him, and am sorry to have missed him.”
Mellia snuggles close. “I will tell him that, if he turns up. Tell the others that I miss them and to hurry back.”
“Mmm. Of course.” Reluctantly he draws himself away. “I should only be a few days.” He looks to the kitchen door and back at Mellia, and has one last kiss.
Mellia makes it a kiss to remember. Eventually she says, “I love you and will miss you horribly.”
He manages not to fall over on his way out, despite watching her as he goes.
… The morning is overcast, spitting rain now and again, and there are half a dozen small tasks to be done, and the house is cozy…
Mellia gets to work on the small tasks. If the weather doesn’t get worse, she will check in with the hospital.
The weather turns into a proper cold downpour, with occasional hints of dryness. In from that, in the early afternoon, comes Venlar. He looks like he has fallen over at least once.
The house knows that he is there because he whistles for the children and calls them even before greeting his wife.
Mellia appears and tells him, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes before a disease demon notices you. Did your trip go well?”
“We need to go on a trip, love. Leaving as soon as we are packed. I will explain once we are in motion. Yes, dry clothes!”
Infara and Nyteem tumble in from the stables.
Mellia tells Infara and Nyteem, “We are going on a journey. We will be leaving as soon as we are all packed.” She asks Venlar, “Are we bringing the babies?”
“They are most important of all. Children, pack as swiftly as impala and as heavily as bison packs. Go!” Venlar starts to peel off his muddied cloak. Even the inside is brown.
There is blood in with the mud, although Venlar does not seem to be injured1Critical on Scan..
Mellia saves her questions for later and calls for the servants. When they arrive, she tells them to pack up the babies as soon as possible. If they ask if they are going, Mellia will direct them to Venlar.
Infara starts to sing a packing song, rapidly explaining to Nyteem what is needed, and to the spirits of their tents that they must sleep in bundles for a while.
After they are done with their clothes, the teenagers make sure Venlar is ready to go. He has been busy instructing people who will remain.
Within half an hour they are in the stables, where Salid and some mules and Finarvi are waiting. The horse Venlar took out has been untacked, and has a large, new scar. That becomes his remount.
Mellia packs quickly. She takes her white robes and her wet weather gear.
With the uzimpalahippocavalcade underway, Venlar relaxes a little.
“Hello, Salid and Finarvi,” Mellia says.
Salid nods stolidly, his broad-brimmed hat dipping. When he walks alongside the mules, it sheds water. So does his skin. He does not wear much.
“Now that we are safely underway, my love, who did you fight earlier?”
“Oh, nobody. However, my uncle… was displeased by my sudden appearance. You know, I had told the others one should not surprise him without delighting him, and then I did exactly that.”
Mellia sighs. “I should have gone with you.”
“Oh, no, not at all. If you had, I would have sent you to the house anyhow, to pack. He is not the reason we are leaving. He simply chose to cripple my horse as he got out of the way of it. As you know, I am good at landing, at least.”
“Thank the gods for that,” says Mellia. “Do I want to know where we are going?”
“Oh, the…” Venlar looks around, and decides that nobody is overhearing. “The Blue Tree. Via the North Gate.” That is… not the right way to go.
Mellia raises her eyebrows and saves comments and questions until they leave the North Gate.
Once they are outside the city, Venlar heaves a slow sigh. “No doubt I am frightened over nothing, but it is the lot of men to be emotional and driven. Finarvi spotted Argrath’s banners on a host approaching the Great Gate.”
“Oh no. He’s planning to claim the throne, no doubt. I suspect Kallyr’s heir will need to fight for the throne.”
Venlar blinks. “Why?” He hardly ever wears a hood or a hat, given his thick hair, but even he is starting to look damp.
“Because Argrath won’t want to get off the throne. No sense worrying about that now. Perhaps in fifteen years.”
“Much of me wishes to reassure you that heirdom does not work like that here, but then again, I am ensuring all the relatives of Varaena that I could muster are leaving Boldhome. If he proves himself, though, he is King. We then serve him or go into exile.”
Mellia nods. “Very wise of you, sweetheart. It’s a good thing that I have no idea where Varanis is.”
“Indeed. And of course, we shall be able to return shortly with assurances, no doubt. Nevertheless, it is probably going to be a few weeks. Perhaps more. We intend to visit the Blue Tree, although I’ll suggest you stay in Dangerford or Jonstown until we know it is safe. Dangerford is further away from the warlord now.”
“Dangerford,” Mellia says firmly. “Among other things, I want to talk to the Blue Tree. We could stay with my House in Nochet. They will want to see the babies in any case.”
“In the long term, perhaps. Dangerford for now. We can send for you from the Blue Tree as required.” Venlar looks ahead as the wind buffets the peaks around them.
The day is cold and wet. Venlar lends Mellia2… who has failed Survival his cloak, and braves the weather, as an Orlanthi does. The overnight stop sees Salid warn of Darktongue voices; Venlar disappears where he sits, and only reappears – at the fire, having been eating for a while – after Salid has seen off the troll and its trollkin band with threats. His footprints are behind where the troll was standing, however. He was ready for action.
The next day, as they ride, Venlar admits, “I am hoping to find Irillo at the Blue Tree.”
“I hope he’s there too.”
Venlar sighs at the weather, which rewards him with a gust of rainy wind. “He was reported as heading that way, but being seen leaving as we did is a good proof against charges of seeing him. We are to meet Dormal on the way, and that is the real charge to avoid, right there.”
Mellia nods. “I would be more worried about Dormal if he were not so good at what he does.”
“He is highly able. We should not meet him before Dangerford, and even then we might wait until morning.” Venlar looks back at the miserable servants and the joyful impala teens, who are taking turns to carry the babies and keep them warm. “We should stop for lunch as soon as we get down to a proper tree line.”
“We should,” Mellia agrees. “The mounts will need a rest by then. Do I want to know what Dormal is up to this time?”
There is a chuckle. “I am assuming he has a message from Esrolia, or wishes to hear something from your cousin’s lips. I bought you a balm for your lips, but it was left in the tunic I was wearing when my uncle tumbled me into the mud. We will have to find some skullbush oil in Dangerford.” Venlar looks glum at that prospect of doing so in such a tiny place.
“It’s alright, love. Thanks for thinking of me. I hope Dormal is not thinking of installing my cousin, for her sake. Trying to put Mirava on the throne would be far worse.”
“Oh, I have seen his army. Finarvi has better eyes, as befits a Skyfire, not a Lowfire. He said that there were tens of hundreds. Dormal is unlikely to install anyone against a force like that.”
“Not without fighting very dirty,” she agrees.
“I think even he could not be filthy enough, although I would be interested in hearing that saga.”
Venlar has hired local guides, and now one of the men signals a halt in a fold of the hills. There is nowhere dry nearby, but at least they are out of the wind.
“Thank the gods for small mercies,” Mellia mutters. She checks on all the people while the servants make lunch.
Everyone is cold and wet and miserable, save for the two impala youths, who are delighted by the bounty of the skies and amazed as ever that it is possible to ride in such a season. They put up their little pea-pod tents, so everyone has somewhere to huddle, and the babies can be checked over and dried out. They have even managed to bring a big piece of canvas which serves as a roof for a makeshift tent under which cooking can happen.
Mellia is impressed by the twins’ foresight and says so. “Infara, how much rest do our mounts need?”
“They are cold and wet,” she says. “I spit on horses.”
“She says we should walk a little way,” Nyteem translates. “The mules are fine but you should ride the mount you lend to your husband that is still fresh, and he should walk. An hour, and then they will be happier, if they eat now.”
Infara nods helpfully.
“Thank you both.” Mellia gives Venlar the news.
He is warming up children, after having been told in no uncertain terms not to help with the cooking. “Oh, that is not a problem,” he says breezily. “I like the air.” The cold weather has hardly affected him at all, although he has been the lucky man with warnings from his god every time it gets really bad.
“Then we will walk for a while.”
- 1Critical on Scan.
- 2… who has failed Survival
