A letter to Odyleon Meiers

[Nell du'Galle]

Evening, Brightening 41 of Immanis, Winter, Era XII (pf)

The messenger was a no-nonsense fellow, dressed in drab leather breeches and jerkin over a grey shirt and topped with the obligatory cloak that would make him look a dashing figure when galloping along the road to Vers. His steed, steel-grey and with cold blue eyes, had carried him well, although by the time they entered the small town was flagging hard. Of course they hadn’t galloped all the way, for that would be impossible, yet they had covered the distance with remarkable vigour.

At the door of the home believed to that of a Mister Odyleon Q. Meiers, the messenger smartly dismounted and rapped on the door. When answered and on proof that the person within was actually Odyleon, a leather wallet was unwrapped and a square of folded parchment handed over. It was sealed with the red wax and stamped with the seal of the Governor of the Province.

The 40th of Immanis, Era XII

To Mister Odyleon Q. Meiers from Lady Nell du’Galle, Governor of Sherian.

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. As promised, swift notice has been brought to you after the closing of the interviews for Senator of Sherian Province. It is with great delight that I am happy to offer you the position of Senator. If you accept this offer, please send word with the messenger back to Taralon.

The salary will be 30,000 crowns an era, along with an additional allowance to cover expenses and staff within the Imperial Senate of Alleria Prime. Before leaving for Alleria Prime, it will be necessary to meet once more to brief you on the central issues facing the Province currently and also I would like to invite you to a meeting with the officials of the Province which is taking place at the Gubernatorial Palace on the first brightening of Ponutis.

Obviously some time will be needed for you make preparations before you leave for Alleria Prime, but I hope that you would be able to take up your position in the Senate by the third cycle of Ponutis.

With hopeful regards and anticipation

Nell du’Galle

[Odyleon]

Few visitors ever knocked on the simple door of 'Villa Meiers', arguably among the most dilapidated buildings in the area, and those who did were generally con artists trying to sell him something. Not surprisingly, Odyleon Q. Meiers had inductively assumed that such was the case with today's guest. Hair regrowth elixirs? Perpetual lamps? Mythril cutlery? Truly, there was no limit to human ingenuity when it came to ripping fellow humans off their Crowns. Over the months, Ody had learned that taking the guise of a small Troll or a particularly bulky Orc prior to opening the door worked wonders on these time wasters. It was a good thing he had somehow decided to give this particular visitor the benefit of the doubt.

'This guy looks very elegant and dignified for your run-of-the-mill scammer, but you can never say.' He reflected, standing by the threshold, the semi-open door giving a pretty saddening view on Ody's pauper dining table, starring highly diluted soup and stale bread. 'And he wants to confirm my identity. Just like that guy two months ago.' He offered his Visa, folded in sixty-four parts. 'I know the drill... Now he's going to say this distant relative of mine who just died made me his universal heir, and I need to pay a few hundreds of Crowns to get the legal wheels moving and stuff. Now he's handing me the papers. So predictable... Fine, let's play his little game...'

The seal looked somewhat familiar, though Ody couldn't really put his finger on it. Some would consider slightly unusual for a soon-to-be Senator to not know the seal of his own province. His eyes immediately fell on the words '30,000 crowns' – 'It was 120,000 last time. Even con artists are getting stingy these brightenings'. Then he read the rest.

And scratched his head.

"I see."

He sighed. "I'm afraid I cannot..." and then, grinning all of a sudden "Just kidding. I accept. Please tell Her Excellency that I'll visit her on the last brightening of Immanis for the briefing and then the provincial meeting." Eight brightenings would be enough to wrap up his business in Vers.

"I take it you've already had pracenda, haven't you?" He pointed at the meager dining table inside.

[Nell du'Galle]

That the messenger was hesitant to hand over the letter was understandable given the sorry state of the man and house before him, yet the proof of identity could not be denied despite the opinions he’d rapidly formed of Odyleon. He had little idea of what the letter said, yet the words Odyleon spoke were committed to memory. The invitation to pracenda, though, gave him pause. He hadn’t taken pracenda, and had barely stopped en route to Vers except to allow his horse to take water and some oats, during which time he’d feasted on paltry travellers rations. Before returning back to Taralon he had planned to stop at a tavern for half a candlemark, not expecting such an offer to be made.

Glancing inside at the meal set out on the table, he saw soup and what looked like to be bread – perhaps a variety that was peculiar to Vers for it seemed a little different to what he was used to. Looking back to Odyleon, he made a decision. This man was to meet with the governor and to attend a political meeting of the Province. His looks were obviously deceptive.

“Well, thank you kindly, I’d be happy to join you!” he replied. Versian hospitality was said to be generous and this was a chance to sample it for himself.

[Odyleon]

The Senator bit his tongue, regretting his offer almost instantly. 'Duroh's rattling bones, I should have imagined this one had 'freeloader' written all over him.' "Please, come in!" He gestured for the poor messenger to step in. He showed the man an unstable-looking hanger where he could leave his coat or cloak if he so wished.

"Please don't mind the dust, I don't get many visitors at this time of the era" he said (not a lie, he didn't get many visitors period), turning his back on the envoy as he darted towards the fireplace. In fact, dust was pretty much the last thing his guest would have noticed, for the house seemed to have been modeled and furnished after the Pits of Aeternia, with items lying in disarray everywhere. Ody lifted a chair that lay horizontally on the floor, returning it to its proper place and inviting his guest to have a seat while he busied himself around the hearth and the small cauldron of soup.

He ladled some into a soup bowl, the liquid more akin to steaming water than actual broth. He placed it triumphantly before the sitting man, accompanying it with an untouched loaf of stale bread and a glass of water. "Trust me, you'll feel reborn after this! Oh, and don't be shy if you'd like seconds!"

Ody then plopped on his own chair, taking on a pensive pose. While he was at it, he would exchange his generosity with information from someone who obviously knew Taralon much better than he did. "Um... I was wondering... is there an Alchemist's shop in Taralon? Someone who deals in elixirs, herbs and the likes... And a Gadgeteer, a machinery shop?" The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to buy his 'special' Senator gear in the provincial capitol. After all, no sane man would enter the Imperial Senate without a vial of poison antidote in his pocket.

[Nell du'Galle]

The messenger grinned and came in, taking the hanger and attempting to put his cloak on it although it fell off straightaway. As he fought with the hanger, he introduced himself. “The name’s Marshall by the way, and it’s mighty good of you to offer me pracenda, sir,” he said, eventually giving up on the hanger and carrying the cloak with him to lay over the back of the chair before he sat down. The sense of gratitude wavered somewhat as he took in his surroundings, yet the polite smile remained on his thin lips although it was gradually becoming more fixed in nature.

Receiving the soup, he ran a spoon through the thin mixture, a little confused by what had been presented him. ”Smells good,” he said, politeness forcing him to comment on the soup despite its appearance. ”Um … an alchemist? There may be, but for herbs you can’t beat Granny Jen’s establishment. Not sure about a Gadgeteer though. But it’s a large city so there’s bound to be one somewhere,” he continued thoughfully, blowing on a spoonful of soup before tasting it.

”This soup has a very … delicate taste. Is it a traditional recipe of Vers?” he ventured, trying to work out why it tasted of water and not much else. He absently tore off some of the loaf and began to eat the stale bread. After a few chews, he stopped, realizing it was stale. Resisting the urge to spit it out, he quickly swallowed, or attempted to, choking somewhat as the bread was forced down his gullet. The glass of water was hastily grabbed to wash it down. "Oof, went down the wrong way," he muttered, with a frown at the remaining loaf. Had this man really served him stale bread?

[Odyleon]

Ah, this man's sincere gratitude for the meal he had been offered felt truly heart-warming after all. 'Well, let's note this down as my daily good deed.' Ody smiled quietly. So great was Marshall's appreciation of the food that he'd greedily eaten more than he could chew, choking on the bread as a result. 'They must be starving him at the Gubernatorial palace' the Senator concluded.

It should be added at this point that Ody would often cast a spell on himself before a meal to change his perception of taste to something more palatable. Needless to say, he'd politely decided to abstain from doing the same to Marshall without his express consent.

"Why yes, it's a personal twist on a traditional Versian soup." With all but three ingredients missing, one of which being water. "I found the original to be a little too... strong for my tastes."

He folded his arms across his chest, his mind wandering off to the list of things he'd have to do in the next few brightenings to leave no loose ends behind. No Gadgeteer, but he could possibly find one later on. Whether he would be able to find a Gadgeteer who was competent enough to construct an Automaton was another matter entirely, but he wasn't in a hurry. This was a long-term project. Completely lost in thought, he wouldn't have noticed if Marshall just up and left, sneaking up to the door and riding away in the darkening.

[Nell du'Galle]

Which is exactly what poor Marshall did. Realising that his host was obviously not one of Vers's great gourmets and that he'd do better off at an inn for pracenda, he stealthily collected his cloak and tiptoed out, leaving behind the soup and stale bread. Whatever man this was and why the Governor was interested in him was not in the messengers knowledge, but he'd return the reply given by Odyleon and only pray he didn't have to sample his cuisine ever again.