The gates of the town are behind Thomas and Redmane now as they follow the road towards the woods, where the clowns (and supposedly the children) were last heard. The sky is clear, with a few sheep-like clouds meandering around in the morning daylight. This particular stretch of road passes through rose farms, with the thorny branches serving as fences alongside.
"Avast ye thorny vine; so alluring in color and smell, so deadly to the fingertips. Ow," Thomas quips as he walks along the road, between the rose bushes. Still, it doesn't deter him from swiping a rose. He de-thorns it, then sticks it behind his ear. "The good thing is the kids are likely unharmed," he says.
"How do you figure that?" Redmane asks, watching the orchards more than the road, in case something is lurking within the flowers. "Because they were taken by clowns?"
"They were obviously wanted for something specific. It would be wasteful to just kill them," Thomas points out matter-of-factly. "Second, there have been no signs, or smell, of blood. No circling carrion birds, either. Death attracts, Redmane."
"Well, true, I guess," the knight notes. "So what do they want them for? To become new clowns?" she wonders.
"I highly doubt that. Its more I suspect these clowns somehow feed off the children. They have an innocence and sense about them that gets lost as age comes. Perhaps they're some form of vampire that lives off the fleeting aspect of childhood," Thomas suggests and shrugs, "Really, without much information ... it's all guesswork." His eyes flick to the ground before him, then off to the side. "And if we're lucky, the clowns came through while there was dew forming. It should leave us a trail once we leave the road."
There's something un-rose-like stuck to a thorn to one side - a bit of shiny red cloth.
Thomas saunters over to the shiny cloth and crouches down to get a closer look, specifically what it might be and the direction it was torn, as the opposite way should indicate the direction of the walker.
It looks like whoever lost the swatch was traveling away from the town, and the fabric doesn't show any signs of having been exposed to the elements for very long. "From a costume?" Redmane asks.
"Probably," Thomas agrees. He detaches the torn fabric ... then tastes it.
It doesn't taste unusual, and more to the point has none of the saltiness that cloth worn against skin would develop. Likewise it doesn't seem freshly laundered either.
"No taste of sweat or detergents," Thomas comments as he pulls out the now slobbery bit of cloth then ever so lovingly splats it on the back of Redmane's hand. "We're not pursuing a fae, that's for certain. Do you remember ever seeing a face, or was it all a mask?"
"Gah, what'd you do that for?" Redmane asks, as she tries to shake the wet fabric from her hand. "Face? I honestly didn't look that closely because clowns give me the creeps. I remember masks, mostly. Like those fancy sorts you hang on walls."
"Well, consider the cloth a portable kiss. Both involve slobber," Thomas says as he grins, stands, and dusts off his knees. "I think we're dealing with some sort of animated costume. Or at least one with a much smaller occupant than the costume implied."
"We saw them juggling though," Redmane notes. "That would have to be pretty tricky to pull off."
"It can be done with glamour," Thomas points out. "Come on, we need to keep moving while there are still fresh trail marks."
The two hurry along, following the occasional child-sized track. So far, there haven't been any indications of the children leaving the road - until the road ends at the edge of the forest.
Thomas raises his hand to indicate stop. There he simply listens for a bit ... for anything.
Birds sing, insects buzz, and frogs chirp. There is also the faintest hint of music, nearly covered by the sounds of stirring leaves.
"Well, that's fortunate ... I actually hear music. For the time being, I am assuming these creatures do not mean any ill intent ... but all the same, be wary," Thomas says as he crouches back down again. Now he checks for any signs of trip wires or other alerting devices.
There aren't any apparent traps or alarms set at the forest's edge - but a shadowy figure leaning against a tree some ways in could be a sentry.
Thomas nods towards the figure. "Someone is there. Hang back here; I'm going to go greet this person," he says as he stands.
Redmane nods and draws her silver blade, holding it in the shade to avoid any telling reflections.
Thomas salutes, then saunters into the woods as if nothing in the world is wrong. "Hey, Muir, you old mangy pup, where have you run off to now?" he calls out as he takes a round-about path towards the sentry. Apparently he's not exactly giving away that his actual quarry are the kids.
The knight rolls her eyes and tries not to move. Whether the sentry rolls its eyes or not is unknown - but it certainly makes no move in reaction to Thomas' approach.
"You know how much of a pain the old gal becomes when you wander off. I'm tired of sleeping in the hall," Thomas complains as he continues towards the sentry. Once he's a bit closer, he says, "Oh, hello there! Pleasant morning, mostly. You haven't, by chance, seen a scrawny mutt come past here?"
This close, Thomas can see that the figure is the Harlequin girl he saw before at the festival. She's leaned back against a tree trunk, with her arms and legs crossed. The eyes of her mask are dark, and the bells on her hat don't even twitch.
"Ey, can you hear me? You okay?" Thomas asks as he approaches the 'girl' and crouches down. He then pokes at the costume.
At the poke, the figure collapses to the forest floor, limbs akimbo, with a discordant jingle of bells. Something sounding like a large hummingbird flies away from the upper branches of the tree.
Thomas glances upward. "Pixie?" he wonders at the odd sound before his attention returns to the costume. He methodically dismantles it, looking for what the contents might be and how it was controlled.
By the time Redmane comes over, Tom has the costume off of the framework. Revealed is something like a whicker mannequin, filled with tiny ropes and harnesses - all of which are woven from hair.
"I told you, a small suit," Thomas notes as Redmane approaches. He counds out the harnesses and examines each closely, trying to get a guess on size.
There are nearly two dozen tiny harnesses spread throughout the puppet, and the spacing suggests creatures no more than eight inches long.
"So, pixies of some sort?" Redmane asks.
Thomas checks the harnesses for spacing that would indicate wings. "Most likely. Perhaps they plan to turn the kids into more pixies. I vaguely remember an old legend that pixies were once just children," he says.
The knight frowns at the thought. "They might have made these puppets, but not the masks or clothing or the instruments they carried," she points out. "They had to have come from a real troupe of performers at some time."
"Pixies are known to do mischievous things, like steal clothing from travelers," Thomas notes and stands. He looks Redmane up and down, then asks, "So .. which one of us is going to put it on?"
"What?" Redmane asks, her eyes going wide as she holds the costume in her hands.
"Well, if one of us wears it, we might be able to sneak closer," Thomas says with a grin.
With a sigh, the girl sheathes her sword and sits on a fallen log to start removing her boots. "It'll be pretty tight on me, you know," she warns.
"Well, I could wear it," Thomas point out.
"I'm not as sneaky," Redmane says, but pauses. "It probably would fit you better though."
Thomas laughs. "Your choice," he says. "I could pretend to have captured you, perhaps. With a little glamour augment, I could possibly enhance the effect."
"Captured me how?" the girl asks, but tosses the costume to Thomas.
"Musical hypnosis?" Thomas suggests, then shrugs, as he checks over the costume of the harlequin girl; namely if the inner frame can be salvaged enough to provide some of the appropriate curves. "Or better ... I move ahead of you and you act as if you're stalking me. Maybe they'll come to my aide and capture you."
The framework has padding in the appropriate places, made of grass woven into bowl-shaped birds nests.
"Mmmm, assuming they don't know we're here already and plant to trap us both?" Redmane asks.
Thomas checks the size next, just to be sure it might actually fit. "There is always that, but this plan is at least humorous, no?" he asks, grinning. "A good sense of humor works well most of the time."
"Baffle them, in other words?" Redmane asks, crossing her legs as she watches Thomas go over the costume. It should fit, given that there's a certain amount of bagginess built-in to the sleeves and hose. Anything that might show in the midriff could probably be covered up by repositioning the belt-sash.
"You get to carry my clothing," Thomas says as he starts disrobing down to just his undergarments, "And of course baffle them. Confusing people is a specialty of mine." Once he's down to just his undergarments, the costume is now carefully pulled on and fiddled with, starting with the hose and shoes, then moving to the top. Repositioning padding as well as other things takes a bit as he works out the fitting. The last that follows is the mask, then the belled hat. The now disguised explorer cocks his hips to the side, places his right hand on them, then rolls his left hand at Redmane, playing up the new 'role'. And fully expecting Redmane to laugh herself sick.
After she's done folding up Thomas' regular clothes, she looks over his disguise. "Hmmm. Can you caper properly?" she asks.
The mask obscures Thomas face, but the air about, er, him, is almost of a 'you have to be kidding' sort of feel. Another shimmy to get the myriad of bells tolling and the 'harlequin' hops, prances, and dances around Redmane. The harlequin draws in chose and that gloved hand comes up as if to brush Redmane's cheek ... but no, a moment later the harlequin is holding the rose that was picked earlier, as if drawn from Redmane's very ear. It's offered to Redmane.
The girl laughs and takes the rose. "Okay, very convincing," she says. "Am I to be your thrall, or your stalker then?"
The harlequin's fingers wiggle, then tap her nose. The next thing pointed to is her sword, then for her to 'wait' for a bit before following. And before the harlequin goes, Redmane's hand is lifted to the lips of the mask where a simulated kiss is placed. Skipping and hopping, off the harlequin goes! Say what you will about Thomas, but he can seriously be a goofball sometimes.
"Well, at least I don't have to caper like a loon," Redmane mutters, and then follows Thomas' trail after he has enough of a lead.
A Faun sits atop one of the boulders, playing his pan-flute. Children sit at his feet, enchanted by the music, while several pixies cluster around then - some with wings and some without. The trees are covered in pixie-nests as well, woven from grass and twigs. There are also three other figures, which on first glance resemble Dwarves - they have thick, wild hair and beards and are short and heavily built. Bare to the waist, they wear crude kilts and leather belts, each with a pair of silver scissors and numerous pouches. Wooly goat-legs poke out from beneath, however. Two of the creatures are busy cutting hair from the children, while the third seems to be on guard, with a small winged pixie woman sitting on his shoulder.
Thomas, as he approaches this oddness, pushes a bit on glamour to add a feeling of odd etherealness to the strange harlequin dance of silliness as he approaches. Thomas twirls about the camp outskirts, examining it in detail as he goes, counting the number of creatures and what weapons, if any, they may hold. There are numerous uses for the hair of a fae, after all, and some are not good. The question is ... do these creaures intend harm...
As for weapons, the dwarven types each have a short gnarled wooden cudgel. If the pixies have anything, they are too small to be seen, and the Faun's only weapons are his tiny horns and hooves.
Next, Thomas looks for if they're watching him. The dance circle closes in as he makes his way towards the piper.
The Harlequin is certainly noticed now! The hairy men get up and join the dance, singing, "Let him go, let him go! For he has the wand of the plough!"
"Interesting ... and slightly suggestive," Thomas thinks as he continues the show of prance and merriment. His target hasn't changed, the pan with the pixies.
"Let her go, let her go! For she has the wand of the plough!" the men sing on, and dance around the Harlequin in such a way that it's difficult to get past them and closer to the children and the Faun. The song pauses, and the hairy men look expectant.
This song ... an old story Thomas vaguely remembers; perhaps one his mother once told him when they lands were young and new to the fey. The plough, the short stick, that permits the bearer to leave the circle unharmed. The song, the verses that followed. What were they? While he ponders this, his eyes look for a short stick to complete the first part of the ritual.
The glen is unfortunately clean of any handy debris or sticks. The men dance around Thomas faster, singing, "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday!" now, over and over.
Thomas, crafting as lilting a voice as he can manage, adds to the chorus as he continues the odd dance, "And Thursday and Friday!"
"Good, Good!" the men sing, and bellow with laughter that actually seems to shake the air itself.
The dance continues, the chorus repeating again as they twirl. Eventually, Thomas looks to see if Redmane is going to join them or not...
Redmane does join in, after a fashion. Two more of the hairy men drag her into the glen, tangled up in a net made of woven hair. She doesn't look happy.
"Korrigan," the knight mutters, sounding bitter.
"Right," Thomas thinks as he guides the odd dance towards the trussed up woman. He reaches out, gloved fingertips tracing along her leg as he adds more to the chorus of song. "And Saturday and Sunday!" he adds.
"What more? What more?" the hairy men chorus, raising their cudgels over their heads as they dance.
Thomas leaps high, twirling about. As he lands he drops down to one knee. With a graceful roll of his hand, he eases off the belled hat and shortly thereafter the mask too falls away. "And now the week is ended," he says in is usual voice, green eyes shining from beneath his mop of unruly hair.
The cudgels come down and smack the ground, and the little men laugh. "Well met, Lord Thomas the Forest Walker!" One of the men says, while the others (save for those guarding Redmane) go back to barbering the enchanted children. Several of the flying pixies hover around Thomas now, and a few of the females dare to dart in and run their hands through his hair for a moment before retreating.
One of the other Korrigans tries reaching into the net to touch Redmane's hair, but yanks his hand back just before the woman's teeth can close on it.
Thomas flashes a smile to the pixies and brushes his hair back. "You are far from home, if the legends speak true," he says with no sound of malice or threat in his voice. "What brings you here and why do you seek the hair of the children of the fae?" He holds out his and to Redmane next, adding, "Calm yourself."
"For a dragon's age, these lands were out of balance," the speaker says. "But now the Seasons return to their natural dance, and so the wild folk are returning as well." He gestures to the colony of Pixies at that point. "But the domesticated faeries would drive us out again if they could, aye? We need to protect ourselves. While we hold the hair of their cubs, they'll not move against us. And we can sway the children over time, influence them, so that we will be welcomed by the next generation."
Thomas hops up onto a nearby rock and crouches down like a predator. "Not necessarily. Why do you believe that they would?" he asks as he looks about the glen. "I have long danced with the fairies of the glen, the spirits of the rivers and the souls of the trees. I have never sought to drive such away and I am one of the .... domesticated fairies' as you put it."
"You? Domesticated?" the Korrigan laughs, and then points to Redmane. "By who? That? Dare ye claim all others be like you now?"
"They have potential, but treating them as if they were enemies without even offering them a chance is foolish. Trying to hold peace by force rarely works," Thomas points out. "Have you tried speaking with them?"
"Oh, yes, we spoke to the children, and they heard us and came to us!" the Korrigan claims. "And those clowns - well, they danced well, but didn't know the proper words."
The other Korrigans chorus, "Shaved 'em bald! Stripped 'em bare! Buggered 'em blue and tossed them in the river!"
"Because few know the tales anymore or the story of the curse of the eternal dance," Thomas remarks, "Much have been lost in the ravages of war that this land recovers from. Much sense of the magic of the world is lost in dealing with the pains of simply living. The children have yet to have that sense dulled. "And for the record that person is Miurenn, Knight of May and a dear friend of mine. She came to this land an outcast and earned their trust. She too was once watched with suspicion, but some were willing to help her. And no ... not just me. An old knight, Bravil of December, was also her friend. Later Randall of April aided her."
"Aha, Born of the Sea!" the Korrigan says, again with an air-rattling laugh. He gestures and the other two release Redmane from the netting. As she stands up, Redmane crosses her arms over chest and gives the pixies a stern look.
"What happened to your horns, woman!" the Korrigan says, big teeth showing through his beard.
"I caught domestication," Redmane replies.
"Do you intend to return the children?" Thomas asks. "And horns do not mark one as wild, you know. Never had 'em myself."
"Oh, you have them, Thomas, they just don't show," the hairy man claims. "Of course we're sending 'em back. Just need their hair!"
At that, Thomas laughs and pats his forehead, noting, "Nope, no horns." His brow arches a bit and seems pleased enough that the children will be returned. "Good. Now, will one of you be brave enough to come with me and the children to speak to the town leaders?"
"That might not be a good idea, Thomas," Redmane whispers. "Better to have one of them come here."
"Fair enough. May I bring one of the leaders here, then?" Thomas asks.
"Aye, we don't leave the forest!" the Korrigan says. "Bring a cute one, with big breasts and wide hips! Or you can leave Born of the Sea with us," the man says, giving Thomas a wink.
"Sorry, her flower belongs to me," Thomas counters with a grin of her own. His head tilts, then he says, "You also now have me curious. You say I have horns?" He looks at the Korrigan, then to Redmane questioningly.
"Aye, but not on your head, lad," the wild faery claims. "On your heart!"
At that Thomas laughs, "And here I was hoping to see myself with horns." He now sits down on the rock and crosses his legs. "I'll wait until I can escort the children back. Then I will see to it that one comes to speak with you."
"Dressed like that?" Redmane asks Thomas.
"Of course not. I'm just waiting for you to return my clothes," Thomas notes.
Redmane takes the wrapped bundle from her belt, and tosses it to Thomas. "Be careful changing, Tom," she warns. "You might not have noticed, but the Korrigan don't have any women or.. restraint." Several pixies giggle as they start tugging on the buttons and ties of the Harlequin costume. "And the pixies just like a good show I think.."
"I'm far from shy, you know," Thomas notes, grinning. He also adds in a whisper, "And you know, you would be sexy with horns. Great for ... holding onto." He winks, then carries his own clothing to behind a tree where he disrobes. The pixies are allowed to watch at least (and maybe help a little.) The others ... not so much.
Leading a bunch of non-enchanted children, it turns out, is best done from the rear where it's easier to keep an eye on them. The kids don't seem to remember anything except for hearing nice music, and blame Thomas and Redmane for their hair being cut (but at least the girls weren't cut as close as the boys). There is an inordinate amount of head-slapping among the boys.
"You know, you never showed me your horns before," Thomas comments to Redmane as he walks behind the crazy collection of children. "What did they look like?"
With a sigh, Redmane explains, "Like a ram. Most of the men in my clan actually had the heads of rams as well."
"Can you still show them?" Thomas asks next, right before he has to take a minute to shuffle some of the kids back onto the path. "And quit slapping your brother's head," he tells one.
A child blows a raspberry at Thomas and dashes out of arm's reach, causing much laughter among his peers.
"They were left behind with my old life, before I was reborn," Redmane notes. "I don't think that after all this time they're likely to grow back. Besides, they'd give me a sore neck now."
"Reborn the first time, that is," the woman clarifies.
"Pity, though I suppose if I worked a little glamour I could fake them on you," Thomas muses as he peers at Redmane's head. He turns around and walks backwards for a bit so he can face Redmane. "So, think I would look good with 'em?" he teases.
"Hah, next you'll want me to grow my tail back too," the knight claims. "Isn't it enough that we're on our way to become wolves for a time?"
"I wouldn't mind seeing you as you were," Thomas says and shrugs, "You already know I accepted everything about you. And regarding the wolves, I thought you were dead-set against being one again."
"Being reminded of what I used to be like.. and knowing that I'm not being changed against me will this time.. has softened my opinion," Redmane claims. "And as for what I used to be like - would you still find me attractive with tusks, a rabbit's tail, long ears, a pig's snout and six breasts?"
"Sure, it might even be an improvement!" Thomas teases and grins widely. He reaches out and taps Redmane's forehead, adding, "The person you are is irrelevant to your trappings, Miurenn. Remember who I adopted and raised." He spins back around, then has to promptly go chase down another child.
"Hmmph," Redmane says. "My aunt Ogra had all that and the personality of a rabid goat," she notes. "I only had the horns."
The children seem to start behaving better once the rooftops of the town can be spotted ahead.
"Besides, if I had my horns now, you'd never be able to resist butting heads with me," Redmane claims.
"When will you understand that you will always be my friend? I swore to stand by you a long time ago. That hasn't changed, has it. And of course I wouldn't be able to resist it! That would be part of the fun! Life is meant to be lived and explored! I know I would have some fun with horns if I had em," Thomas says as he returns to walking beside her.
"There must be some were-goats in Mirari," Redmane says teasingly. "I'll find one willing to bite you, how's that?" she asks with a big grin.
"Sure, then I'll bite you and we can have one heck of a time kidding around," Thomas retorts and swats Redmane right on the butt. "So, you don't like the Korrigan, do you?"
A cry goes up from the town walls when the group is spotted, and the gates are thrown open. A small mob runs out onto the road, even though it's still a few more minutes of walking before the children will be in range.
"Hey, there are children present," Redmane says after the swat, her face blushing. "And it's not that I don't like them.. it's just that they are incredibly crude. The local farmers will need to keep their sheep away from the forest lest they find them giving birth to more of the little creeps."
At that Thomas laughs. "I've dealt with so many odd cultures I guess I just don't notice it anymore. Or maybe it was the beer and bean battles Sam, Randall, and I used to have on the road. Oberia was mortified of us. It was great," he claims. "And looks like we're about to get swarmed by the town. This will be tricky. I need to get some time alone with just their leaders."
"Which will those be though?" Redmane asks. "There must be a mayor or headman, right?"
"There should be, yes. Failing that, the Barony itself," Thomas answers.
As the mob of parents gets closer, the children get more nervous. "Are we in trouble?" "My butt, my butt!" "Waaaah!" they chorus.
"You aren't in trouble. They'll just be happy to see you," Thomas claims as he shouts out.
This doesn't do much to stop the sniffling and shuffling of the kids. But their ultimate fate is unknown, as the mothers swoop in carry them off like hawks catching up rabbits. In a matter of moments, Thomas and Redmane are left alone, at least until the other townsfolk arrive. "What happened?" "What did they do?" "Where are the clowns?" "Should we get the noose and scaffold set up?" "I've got my pitchfork!" "Get yer torches! Fresh dipped! Two for a penny!"
Thomas holds up his hands. "Calm, calm, there is just a misunderstanding going on," he calls out to the crowd. "I need to speak with your town leader."
There's ripple in the mob, and people part in the wake of an unsurprisingly rotund man with a green sash across his chest. "I'm the Lord Mayor!" the man bellows, adjusting his powdered wig. "What's going on here?" she shouts. Perhaps he doesn't have a volume control, or is just stuck on 'loud enough to wake the dead'.
Thomas rubs his forehead, then whispers to Redmane, "This is why I hate dealing with nobles and the like." Turning his attention back to this man, Thomas says, "First order of business, please speak softer. Second order of business, allow me to introduce myself and my companion; I am Lord Thomas, founder of the Golden Hawks and my companion is Knight Redmane of May. If you wish proof, it can be provided, but I would prefer not to get into such nonsense. We were investigating the disappearance of your children. Do you have the authority to form binding treaties with groups directly, without approval of the local Barony?"
"Treaties? What? Are we being invaded?" the Mayor asks, his body shaking like jelly. "We.. we can do trading pacts with other towns.."
There's a lot of whispering and muttering within the mob, and the innkeeper woman can be heard to say, "I didn't know they'd gotten married.."
"Nothing of the sort. Some old residents have returned and they're just worried they won't be accepted. I think it would be best if they leaders of each group sat down and worked out an agreement and understanding. It would prevent events like what happened with the children from happening again," Thomas explains to the mayor. HE then has to look over the mayor's shoulder and shout, "We're not married, we were just traveling under alias to prevent too much, well, questioning."
Redmane just turns away and covers her face with a hand. The Mayor asks, "What do you mean, young man? Who took our children and for what reason?"
"Can we speak in private? This is getting out of hand," Thomas sighs.
"Very well, come with me," the Mayor says, before turning and plowing a path back through the crowd.
"Come along, horns," Thomas tells Redmane and follows after the Mayor.
Behind Thomas, Redmane grumbles something unintelligible and follows along. Eventually they're brought to the town hall, and it takes some effort to keep the mob from just following them right inside. As it is, they're pressed up against the windows. Inside are rows of benches and a podium, along with a small stage. "Is this sufficient?" the Mayor asks.
"Tolerable. Please close the shutters," Thomas says as he finds a bench and sits down.
Redmane takes care of closing the shutters, while the Mayor sits across from Thomas.
"How much do you know about wild fae?" Thomas asks as he folds his hands together.
"Well, we have a trained squad to deal with those who drink too much on holidays," the Mayor says.
"This is going to take a while," Thomas mutters. And so for the next hour, Thomas tells the mayor of old legends, of fae creatures that remain wild in the lands, living in the forest, their peculiar customs and their odd songs. He tells of how they left these lands long ago because of the war with the Years End, and now that the natural order has been restored, they have begun to find their way back. He then explains how they sent out a call and it was only the children that answered them. There he waits to see if the mayor needs clarification on a point before continuing.
"So.. ah.. what do they want, exactly?" the man asks. "Do they expect us to leave? Observe they're strange customs? Worship them?"
"Co-exist, from what I currently understand. They do not wish you to drive them away from the forests," Thomas answers, "But that is something you can discuss directly with them, if you are willing to do so."
"My point in all of this is that no peace can be held through force or fear. It is in both of your best interests to work out an amicable agreement," Thomas adds.
"Oh, so we don't need to leave out saucers of milk or anything then?" the Mayor asks, sounding relieved. He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the sweat from his brow. "Just stay out of the forest?"
"Again, that is something to discuss with them and come to agreement," Thomas says, "Do you have the authority to negotiate with them or do I need to speak with the Barony?"
"Authority? Wait.. what is the scope of this, exactly?" the Mayor asks. "Just this one little band of faeries living in our forest, or does it involve the whole of February?"
"At the present, just this small band," Thomas answers, then looks to Redmane. "You also have experience with the Korrigan, how large are their groups, typically?"
"I imagine we've seen the entire bunch," Redmane says. "More than six of them, and they squabble over things. There may be other feral fae out there that they speak for though. Not all of those types can communicate in spoken language, after all."
"So then at the present, assume it is just local to this area," Thomas concludes.
"Oh, well then I do have the Authority to pass regulations on the woodsmen and shepherds," the Mayor claims. "Poaching is the purview of the Baron, of course."
"Good, then you will accompany Redmane and myself to meet with them and work out an agreement to your mutual benefit," Thomas says, nodding.
"What, into the forest?" the Mayor squeaks. "How far?"
"Yes, into the forest, and not that far. An hours walk, give or take," Thomas answers.
"It's quite the walk to the forest," the man frets. "Will my ass be able to negotiate the woods?"
Thomas has a really hard time not laughing here at the possible double-meaning of that phrase. "Lord Mayor, you will have me as a guide. Your steed will be quite capable of following me through the woods," he says.
"Oh, very well then, allow me to fetch my scepter and calligraphy set," the man says, rising to his feet.
"Meet us at the town gates after lunch," Thomas says as he stands and bows. "Thank you, Lord Mayor. I apologize for the commotion caused and that you now have to deal with us in addition to establishing a new treaty with the feral fae."
"Oh, quite alright," the Mayor says. "After all, we don't often get celebrity honeymooners in town!"
Thomas rubs his forehead. "We're not on a honeymoon," he says, again.
"Oh.. OHHHH..." the Mayor says, and gives Thomas a wink. "Of course not! I will see you at the gates then.." the man says, and goes to throw open the doors and address the crowd.
"For the record, I blame you Redmane," Thomas mutters and glares briefly at the woman.
"I can accept that," Redmane claims, smirking, "because I know you'll lose the record as soon as it's written."