The shift into December brings up many old memories for Redmane. The landscape is still gray, the air cool, and the melting remains of snow are everywhere. The scent of the air is wild, woody, and damp. Still, everything here feels alive and even in the bleak colors, oddly cheerful.
The shift into the wilder lands has made Thomas more animated than usual. He's always moving; the ranger darting here and there, his head held high and alert and eyes ever moving. One moment he's climbing a tree to get a view ahead and in the next few minutes he's down on the ground searching out some trail that only he seems capable of finding. When spoken to his replies are often short and sometimes nothing more than a grunt.
Still, he does seem to know where he's going because soon enough he leads Redmane out of the forest they've been in for the better part of two days and into a clearing. Just ahead is the side of a hill, but it's not just any hill. The side has been dug out and in its place a magnificent, though now old and starting to crumble, gothic cathedral stands. Spread out before it is row after row of tombstones.
"The Hall of the Fallen," Thomas remarks as he wipes away the dirt on his palms. "This place was commissioned by the Lord of December after the last Great War; the one the Jack of Hearts engineered. They suffered many losses in that war and Sir Bravil was one. Monuments to the knights are inside, the graves outside are the foot soldiers." The lanky ranger pauses there to run his hands through his hair. "That war was a pointless waste," he comments, the edge of annoyance evident in his voice.
"That's typical of war," Redmane notes, brushing her fingers over the upper curve of a tombstone as they head for the cathedral. "Back home, we had barrows for our great kings and warriors. They weren't exactly solemn places though."
The stone is old and small bits crumble and flake as Redmane's fingertips scrape over the surface.
"And when the rulers of the Houses could have made a difference and allied to track down the real force behind it, they balked. Everything had returned to normal. Bah. None are so blind as those who refuse to see," Thomas grumbles.
"You have to let go of that anger, Thomas," Redmane says. "It's coloring your opinions too much. The current houses aren't led by the same people, even if they still act like it."
""Never said I was mad at the current rulers," Thomas notes. As they approach the doors, a frown draws across his lips. "Someone wouldn't ..." the ranger remarks as he heads right to the door and crouches down. His fingers trace over the lock and frame, or rather ... what is left of it. "The lock has been forced."
"Why would it be locked in the first place?" Redmane asks, as she starts looking around for signs of recent visitors. Given the slushy nature of the ground at this point, though, she doesn't have high hopes of finding anything.
"Tomb raiders, Redmane. The door was enchanted to only open for those who came with honorable intentions," Thomas explains and stands.
The ground is rather messy, but the regular patterns of elongated puddles do hint at recent footsteps that are not hers or Thomas'.
"Raiders?" the knight asks, and looks back to the cathedral. "What would they be after? Are the weapons of the fallen kept here as well?"
"Weapons and armor yes. Relics, trinkets. Some people I hear like to collect the bones of the famous dead," Thomas grumbles. He draws a breath, then pushes firmly against the great doors. With the groan of old metal, the great doors swing open and a rush of musty air flows out from the cathedral. Ahead is dark, save for the columns of light that shine through high stained glass windows and alight the long row of statues that extend the length of the building.
"Well, let's see what's been taken then," Redmane says, before pausing to really look at the huge interior. "Wow.."
Without another word, Thomas heads into the building. His boots click upon the worn stone floor with each step. As Redmane follows and her eyes adjust to the light, she can see some of the stones before the statues have been pried up. Inside are only the fragments of armor and a few bones here and there. Anything that was of value has been removed.
"Bones.. what would anyone want with bones?" Redmane mutters. "Unless they're for some sort of magic." She frowns at the mess and apparent disrespect.
At that, Thomas shrugs. "I have no idea," he admits. The frown he wears only grows deeper as he continues forward. It's become obvious he's heading towards the last statue on the left as as Redmane grows closer, the why is clear; the statue is of a man Redmane recognizes: Bravil. The stones before it have also been disturbed.
The woman pauses to look up at the statue, trying to summon up the rest of her memories about the knight. "Seeing him.." she starts to say, then shakes her head. "I don't think there are any statues of me out there."
"Then you haven't been to the center of May recently, have you?" Thomas asks as he crouches down before statue. He's only searching for a moment before he growls, "They took everything."
"Took it where?" Redmane asks. "There must be some place where these things are bought and sold. Collectors usually don't get their hands dirty."
Thomas looks over his shoulder. "Why do you assume I know all the places of ill repute?" he asks.
"You knew that some people collect the bones and relics," Redmane points out. "So, there must be an underground market for them. Or else it all goes to a dragon with a long memory."
"So, you have returned to desecrate the memories of this place," comes the echo of a deep voice from the entrance. Outlined in sunlight, a cloaked man stands in the doorway. In his right hand he bears a broadsword, one looks around four feet long, in fact. "Where have you taken them?" he asks as he walks towards the pair now. The tip of his sword scrapes along the stonework, alighting it in a spray of sparks.
"I am a knight of May, and my companion is a Lord," Redmane replies, making no move towards her own weapons yet. "We came to pay our respects and found that the cathedral had been ransacked."
"Lies. Few know of this place," the man barks to Redmane as he continues his approach. "And no Lord has visited it in Generations. Tell me where you took the remains and I may spare your lives."
"No lies. She peaks the truth. Lord I am, though I do not often claim the title," Thomas notes calmly. He doesn't make any move towards his weapon, either.
"If you don't believe me, then feel free to take my weapon," Redmane offers. She draws her iron sword, and holds it out handle-first to the approaching figure.
"Indeed," the cloaked man growls as his pace quickens.
"Ah, Muirenn," Thomas says as he steps towards the woman, though he cannot get too close due to that sword. "That may not be wise..."
"You haven't introduced yourself, sir," Redmane says to the man. Looking aside to Thomas, she notes, "A knight would not strike down an opponent offering no resistance."
"I would not be so sure that he is a night, have you not noticed his shadow?" Thomas says quietly.
Redmane blinks and looks to the man's shadow.
His shadow ... well, most men do not have large, bushy, tails. "I am Einsam," the man growls as he's now in grasping range of Redmane's blade. There isn't even hesitation as the man reaches out and closes his hand around the hilt of the iron sword ... and no sign of pain. "Guardian of this place," he growls and yellow eyes narrow beneath the hood. His head snaps back and Redmane finds herself looking right into the snarling maw of a half-shifted black wolf.
"I am Redmane, Countess of May," Redmane replies, trying not to look shaken by Einsam's nature. "And this is Lord Thomas the Explorer. We came to pay our respects to Sir Bravil, on our way to visit Abnehmenvolf. You will smell no grave dirt or dust on us."
"Hah," the wolf barks as he takes the iron blade fully. "Claiming to be some legendary figure does not grant you free passage," Einsam growls as he leans in, his nose mere inches from Redmane's. "Can you prove what you claim? Who is your Goddess and mine?"
"My Goddess is Cerridwen," Redmane replies. "This sword once split the floor of Her temple in Abnehmenvolf. Treat it with respect, it is consecrated to the Goddess."
The wolf draws back and now lifts the iron blade so that he can get a better look at it. HE actually even sniffs the blade. "Mm," the wolf rumbles before offering the blade back to Redmane. "My apologies," he rumbles, "You are welcome here."
After sheathing her sword, Redmane asks, "We need a trail to follow. Can you scent how long ago the raiders were here?"
"Well, nicely done. It looks like all the lessons on being civilized are finally taking hold of you, Red," Thomas quips, grins, then elbows her. "I'm so proud."
"What do you know about being civilized, squirrel-boy?" Redmane retorts.
"Plenty. You haven't listened to all the stories about the maidens that I woo'ed in my youth, have you?" Thomas jokes.
"I take Minstrel Sam's tales with a grain of salt," Redmane notes. "You didn't seem the wooing type when I first met you." She then goes to look at Bravil's statue again, checking to see if the plaque had been damaged as well.
Einsam just shakes his head. "And that solidifies it. The bickering is legendary," he huffs. "As for a trail, I have had little luck. The rains and snow have killed the scents and the tracks all double back on each other. I cannot tell which way they went."
"I said wooing a maiden. You were far from that," Thomas points out and laughs.
"Who in December has the wealth to buy stolen relics?" Redmane asks Einsam as she kneels down before Bravil's statue.
The plaque itself is thankfully undamaged. Though tarnished, it still bears Bravil's name, title, date of death, and all the honors he earned in his lifetime.
"It doesn't seem adequate," Redmane mutters after reading the plaque. She stands back up and turns to face the others. "We need a lead."
"Town mayors, perhaps. Another possibility are fledgling barons who wish to claim relation to heroes of legend. Few remember this place so few would question the emergence of such artifacts," Einsam notes a bit grimly.
"Then we start with the people who do remember it," Redmane suggests.
"Mm, fair enough. The local baron would know of this place," Einsam agrees as he finally sheaths his own weapon and turns to leave. The wolfman pauses just before he looks back. "These are more than legends to you, are they not? You knew some of them?" he asks.
"Yes, they were friends," Redmane notes.
"Which ones?" Einsam asks.
"Mainly Sir Bravil," the woman admits. "The others despised me at first."
"Sir Bravil was a good friend of mine," Thomas answers and motions to Bravil's monument. "Eikarn, Tralis, and Prost were known to me. We all were present in the battle of Dalin River," he adds as he motions to a few other statues.
"Let's pay a visit to the local Baron, and find out who has been asking about this place," Redmane says. "I'm sure Bravil would have gone after my remains if he'd lived."
Einsam nods at this. "Was he a good man? The monument says little about him," the wolf comments. "His position next to the Lord's son says much about his standing with the House, but not how he was as a person."
"He was very good, and loyal to the Crown," Redmane notes, sounding a bit sad. "A true Knight."
"I trusted him with my life more than once. Few I would say that about," Thomas notes, "He cared about his duty and others. The battle in which he fell ... he held the lines while many wounded were extracted from the field. He would not leave any soldier behind so long as he still stood." The ranger then looks back to the statue and adds, "I still miss him."
"Then please keep his stories alive," Einsam says as his head bobs once. "Come, it is a few hours travel to the barony."
"We might make it by dark then," Redmane says, and then tells the statue, "I'll be back."
What is it with wolves and not wanting to stop? The half-transformed Einsam has put the stamina of both Redmane and Thomas to the test as they undertake the several hour trek to the closest barony. After enough complaints, though, Einsam finally relents to taking a break.
The sunlight is just starting to fade and they're still two hours out, give or take, by Thomas' estimate. Still, a half-an-hour rest will do them good. Einsam volunteered to do the hunting and has left Redmane alone with Thomas for the moment.
"He's a strange one," Thomas comments as he builds a stone ring to contain a small campfire.
Sitting on her pack with her legs sticking out straight, Redmane replies, "How do you figure?"
"I thought I was grumpy," Thomas notes as he piles up some tinder in the small fire pit. "He has me beat."
"Seems like one of the original wolves, to me," Redmane notes, finally bending her knees. "A bit surly, but a little more civilized. He's not the caretaker of the memorials, certainly. He must have been there for a different reason. One of the knights could have been an ancestor, maybe."
"Hm, maybe. I assume you noticed the same peculiarity I did," Thomas comments without looking up. He digs out a rough stone, then uses his small hunting knife against it, creating a shower of sparks on the tinder. It takes several tries before it starts to smoulder. Thomas blows on it encouragingly.
"That he wears clothes and uses a weapon you mean?" Redmane asks, quirking a grin. "You were always the master of getting things to smoulder, Thomas. What peculiarity have you noticed? I'm not that familiar with Winter people still, you know."
"He's likely a shifter, but he doesn't shift to full fey form," Thomas explains, "That we've seen anyway." He pauses there to prod a bit at the meager flames that have trickled to life in the fire pit. "I wonder why."
"Maybe because he's angry?" Redmane suggests. "Or wounded in some manner that prevents him from going fully wolf or fey."
"I'm not aware of any wounds that could ... " Thomas says, then abruptly stops. His head perks up and the ranger himself sits upright almost like a wolf himself. "He's coming," Thomas says after a second, then nods.
"That was fast," Redmane notes, looking around. "Game must be plentiful, lazy or... maybe he uses traps if he lives out here."
Sure enough, the soft crunch of leaves can be heard. "Hrgh, you intend to cook," comes the gruff voice of their companion a moment before they see him emerge from the surrounding woods. He's got a trio of rabbits slung over his back, all threaded on a bloody line. "It ruins the flavor," he actually complains as he drops the game into a pile near Redmane.
Taking the hint, Redmane draws her utility knife and starts skinning the rabbits. "But it improves ones breath," she retorts.
"Are you saying my breath is distasteful?" Einsam asks with a hint of a growl. The half-wolf settles down with a thump near the weak fire across from the other two. His yellow eyes watch them intently.
"It can't be any worse that Redmane's breath. She could melt iron with the breath she wakes up with," Thomas quips with a grin. For his part of the meal, he starts working on a makeshift spit frame.
"Well, unless you expect me to kiss you it hardly matters, right?" the girl notes. "I've got some barbecue rub in my pack, if you want to do the cooking, Thomas."
"I have no interest in fey women," Einsam remarks as he unbuckles his baldric. The heavy leather harness and great sword are soon set aside.
"I'm not... ah, never mind," Redmane notes, as she cleans the rabbits. "May I ask why you're out here all alone, Einsam?"
"Sure, I'll handle that," Thomas agrees, "Spicy rub? Too much cayanne might bother Einsam's stomach."
"He doesn't have to eat a cooked one if he doesn't want to," Redmane notes, tossing one of the stripped rabbits to Thomas.
"I could ask you two the same," Einsam answers with his own question. "I am out here because it is peaceful. I hope to find answers in the stillness."
"We're passing through on the way to Abnehmvolf, and wanted to pay our respects to old comrades," Redmane explains. "What answers are you seeking?"
Thomas catches the rossed rabbit on the blade of his knife. He transfers it to the spit, which is propped up for the moment. And in the ever Thomas way, he doesn't even ask before he sticks his hand under Redmane's butt to fish around for the rub in her pack.
Redmane does hop up though, and makes a show of stretching her back.
"What business do you have in Abnehmvolf?" Einsam asks, his dark brow ridge arching slightly, casing odd shadows across his muzzle in the firelight. "I seek answers of historie itself and of those who played a part in it."
"Well, I suppose we're here to answer your questions then, maybe," Redmane notes with a grin, and holds out the other cleaned rabbits. "Want yours gutted?"
Suppressing a laugh, Thomas rescues the rub and proceeds to apply it to the rabbit. With an overly dramatic flair, he sets the first rabbit over the fire and even tosses a bit of the rub into the fire. It crackles and sparks in the flame.
"As for Abnehmenvolf, we were invited to visit," the Knight cum Countess tells Einsam.
"I will honor your desire for civilization and eat as you do," the wolf states. The answer, though, causes the wolf to grow quiet for a time. "Are the stories about you and my kind true, then? Did you restore the unity with the fey?"
"I had only a small part in that. Miurenn did all the hard work," Thomas claims. "I just nipped her on the backside whenever she faltered."
"A long time ago, yes," Redmane notes, and reclaims her seat to finish cleaning the remaining rabbits so Thomas can spit them. "I remember running about on four paws. And getting stuck midway between, in a form like you seem to prefer."
"Then perhaps you should be my enemies," Einsam says with a hint of a growl and a moment of clenched teeth. The anger is only momentary, though, and the half-wolf says, "But what would that solve? It would not undo actions of the past."
"I sense you have some dispute with current alliance then?" Redmane asks. "Care to share?"
"And it would cost you your dinner. If you attacked us now, I fear the rabbits would burn," Thomas says without the slightest hint of worry. On goes the other rabbit.
"The fey do not have the same pride in their honor that we do, or the same ... faithfulness," Einsam notes.
"Hmmm," Redmane says, wiping her hands off before resting them on her knees. "Does this involve a wolf girl being involved with a fey man, perhaps?"
Einsam snorts. "It does," he all he offers as an answer.
"Sibling, child or parent?" Redmane prompts, leaning forward a bit. Not that she's naturally attracted to gossip. That would be too girly.
"Not that it is any concern of yours, but one of my ancestors," Einsam says curtly. "You knights and your codes. They seem to be optional."
"A fey knight? Which one?" Redmane asks. "I know from experience that some were.. jerks. But you know how it is - girls always go for the bad boys."
The wolf casts Thomas a glance, then barks a laugh. "Noted," he says. As for the answer to her question, he doesn't seem terribly forthcoming.
"What? I'm not bad," Thomas remarks as he waves the end of a smouldering stick at Einsam. "Annoying, I'll accept, but not bad."
"One of those in the memorial though, I imagine," Redmane says, rocking back a bit. "Not Bravil, since he could shift and.. well, he just wouldn't break someone's heart. You fought with most of them, Thomas. Any guesses?"
"If our companion would show us his fey skin, I could hazard a few guesses," Thomas offers.
"No," Einsam growls in a tone of finality.
"So, Knight of the Crown," Einsam addresses Redmane as he sits upright and a ripple rolls down his back. "Tell me, if you had a young family, would you leave them to go fight?"
"Bravil couldn't shift," Thomas points out to Redmane, "Only the Lord could. But your other statement stands to reason; it would not be his nature to break someone's heart."
"Well... yes, that's what being a Knight means," Redmane notes. "That's what being a warrior in general means. You fight to protect the ones you love. So a Knight with a family has added incentive beyond duty."
"Bravil couldn't?" Redmane asks Thomas, in actual suprise. "He was so.. big! And.. huh. I guess I just assumed. We was a bear of a man, physically."
"And very noble," she adds.
"When the battle would not protect his family? When it was far from them?" Einsam asks, "Where is loyalty to family in your code, knight, in respect to your Lord?"
"It isn't in the code," Redmane notes. "Loyalty is to King and Country. Your family falls under the Country part, along with every other family. And just because you fight in a battle that seems far away and unrelated, does not mean there won't be a battle at home someday, in which other Knights will come to your aid, leaving their families behind."
"Convenient," Einsam growls. "My kind mates for life. If a mate is lost, rarely does another ever get taken. And children of those broken families are ... looked down upon."
"Then your ancestor should not have mated with a Knight," Redmane states plainly. "But love makes one blind to the risks. So, she must have loved him enough that it was worth it. Do you know that she regretted it?"
"No," Einsam comments and actually looks away.
"Then the blame lies with the customs that punish love," Redmane notes. "And your people's customs can change. I've seen it."
"Food's done!" Thomas declares. "I ... think. It quit bleeding, anyway." He prods the rabbits with a pointy stick.
"Meat on a stick!" Redmane cheers, taking one. "That and toilet paper make for civilization!"
"Good, I tire of talking," Einsam remarks as his head swings back around. "And bleeding or not, it is done enough for me." His approach to taking one is to lean over and take one in his jaws and lift it away. The crunching sound of bones is a bit disquieting.
"Think we should offer him a Coke?" Redmane asides to Thomas.
"For what it is worth and this is coming from someone who is not a knight," Thomas says as he takes the final, "Sometimes you have to go because you love someone and you know that if you do not, they will never be safe. It's not an easy choice and regret always weighs on the soul afterward." To Redmane he comments, "Fizz in that long of a nose would be unpleasant. Better not..."
"Yeah, we'll save it for making the Baron squirm if we have to," Redmane agrees and nibbles on the rabbit. "Mmm, not bad. We'll have to take you along when we go camping at the lake sometime, Thomas."
"Ugh, people would talk," Thomas complains.