Collecting the Set: The other Ex-Governor

[BetaFlame]

It was perhaps a statement to Aleksei's determination that he still refused to ride a horse, even heading outward to the Calomel estate. He was pulling behind him a wagon, with something covered loaded into it. By the way the wagon wheels were squeaking as it rolled, it was fairly obvious this was a heavy item or items covered by the tarp. It was likely the squeaking of the strange wagon that drew the eye of several workers to the man in the great white cloak. He offered them a wave, and chatted for a few moments. After a moment, one would point toward the forge and Aleksei would nod before heading on his way.

This was likely repeated a few more times. It was not often they saw a man in eyeglasses drawing a wagon. Drawing a wagon was a task left to horses after all. He wished he had not had to wear his sword to this meeting. He did not want to give the man the wrong impression of him, but being careful was more important at the moment. He was getting neck deep in new affairs, and Catch had made of point of trying very hard to break him recently.

So he would approach the forge. Even if the door was open, he would simply reach in to rap sharply upon the wood. Hopefully between hammer beats, or when the man was quenching so that he could actually get his attention. Blacksmithing was loud work, something Aleksei could attest too first hand.

Then, once he had the attention of the man (If he could!), "Ser Cinnabar Calomel? I am Aleksei River. I think you saved me from getting my head caved in by Catch." He would offer a small smile at that. Something simple this time. Length had gotten him in trouble before.

[Cinnabar]

The sounds of industry are easily audible on the approach to the Hall and the cluster of outbuildings around it; the visitor's goal is simple enough to find by the ringing of metal upon metal alternating with the steady breathing of the bellows. The interior holds a small but well-appointed smithy, a dim space lit only by the coals of a stout brick forge, smelling of iron and smoke and hard work.

At the centre of it moves the smith and, by all accounts, landlord of the estate: a young man, slim, perhaps in his mid-twenties, clad in soot-smudged work clothes and a sturdy leather apron; close-cropped silver-white hair despite his apparent youth, a hint of elven blood in his angled features and slightly pointed ears. In the process of hammering square-headed nails, it would seem, a glance of grey eyes and a brief nod acknowledging his visitor's presence as he keeps working, a couple of moments and a half-dozen strokes of the hammer to see the nail tapered, clipped and given a flat head. Easy, practiced movements, the task long since become familiar, routine. No gloves, no tongs, working with little concern for heat of forge or metal.

Only once the completed nail has been dropped into a bucket with its fellows does the smith step forward, wiping forge-soot on the rag at his belt before offering a hand in greeting. At that reminder he cracks a grin, eyes narrowing a little as if scrutinising his visitor's features.

"Ah, yes, we didn't get as far as introductions then." His accent marks him as a Derryman, though one away from his homeland for a fair while. "I'm glad to see your head's still in one piece. What can I help you with?"

[BetaFlame]

He takes the former Governor's hand firmly and just nods at him. It was odd to meet another young person with hair the same color as Aleksei's, but he preferred to wear his longer in the style of his homeland. "Well, your name keeps coming up and I prefer to know a person I keep hearing about. Prevents me from absorbing others opinions as my own." He understood that aspect of human nature, very well. If you hear something else, you start to believe it.

"Yes, my head is still in one piece at the moment. Check back with me in a month. Catch is still trying to disassemble me to get inside." He gives a rueful little smile and a shake of his head at that. "Hence, why I travel armed. Not that I think it would do any good, but it makes me feel better, you understand? If you have some time, I would like to talk to you. Your name has come up a few times, and while I would rather leave you in peace..." He gives a little shrug. One could hardly investigate the Baie and not have Cinnabar's name come up a few times.

"That, and I brought you a gift. I know you were injured by Catch that afternoon, and I have been remiss in thanking you for your effort." He gestures down the pathway to the wagon with its load covered by a tarp. "From one smith to the another."

[Cinnabar]

The former Governor's grip is firm and warm, palm hardened by work of one sort and another; pale brows lift at Aleksei's admission, that grin widening a touch further.

"That'd be why I keep feeling my ears burning, then. Good things, I trust." Amiable banter, and a pleasant enough break from working over the forge. His smile fades at mention of Catch's ongoing efforts, a more serious cast to grey eyes.

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry to hear that. Glenn's asked me to help with Catch as I can, so hopefully that won't continue for too much longer." He glances to the man's belt at that mention of travelling armed, noting the blade at his hip with mild interest. "There's plenty of reasons to travel armed, though I'd say that with Catch you're better off just running. Brigands and beasts, though, that ought to do you fine."

At mention of a gift his smile returns, albeit with a shake of his head. "Honestly, there's no need; bruises fade faster than broken skulls, hm?" Though as he follows the man's gesture and notices that wagon he can't help but take a step or two for a better view, more than slightly bemused. "Alright, I'll admit I'm curious."

[BetaFlame]

He gives a little shrug and grins right back, taking the man to the wagon. He had made it himself, purpose built for doing strange things like this. "Ah, so you are the one that took over for me after I got shifted to the matter of Aeryn. Admittedly, trying to deal with Catch and that mess was beyond me. Though, I do not envy you. Catch is difficult. Maybe I can be of some help to you?"

Aleksei's own grip matches the ex-Governor, and tells him much about the man. The fact he was forging nails also tells him a lot. He's practical, and prefers to help in the work on the farm rather than sit and let it run itself. He smiles a little at him and shrugs, "Admittedly, what I bring is more suited to forging weapons than farm tools, but still, you don't see this sort of metal often."

He reaches down and pulls the tarp off. Laying neatly in the wagon are long steel rods. They have been hammered into a general shape and treated, but not truly forged into anything. They are ready for a smith's hand. There are ten, each weighing roughly ten pounds. Five are dark steel, to the point of being almost black. Five are light, looking more like a frosted grey. Extremely high carbon content, and the equally low carbon content to mix it with. "I keep in contact with some merchants. One of them found a nice lot of this kind of metal for me. I used some of forge this," His hand pats the hilt of his sword, "and I was most happy with it. Agnie said you were a smith, and I thought perhaps you would enjoy working it."

He lifts one of the blocks, and offers it to Cinnbar, curious as to what he will make of it.

[Cinnabar]

Aeryn. Yes. Not an especially popular name with the once-Governor, and he glances aside to his visitor somewhat speculatively. "Mm. I suspect you might've got the short straw with that one. Have you had much luck?" Karolinger had been a thorn in the region's side for a long time - too long, despite the best efforts of the authorities. Murderer, marauder. "Information on Catch might be useful, but given what I saw I'm not sure it's wise for you to be involved directly." Not if he wants to keep his brains on the inside of his skull, that is.

Calomel inspects the gifted steel with some interest, accepting the offered billet and taking a closer look. "I'll need to see how it works on the anvil, but what's good as a sword'll be as good as a scythe. If that's not too humble a use for it, of course." In all honesty the man wasn't much of a weaponsmith, having first taken up metalworking during his time as Constable as something of a hobby; only once he came into possession of the farm had he found such skills in demand, and spent most of his time in the forge repairing farm implements or fashioning hinges, hooks and of course nails. There's certainly plenty of material here, though, enough to last the farm for a good long while, and he seems pleased with it for all that he's vaguely hesitant to accept such generosity.

"It's very kind of you, sir. Thank you."

He sets the steel back on the wagon as Aleksei indicates the weapon at his belt, nodding towards it inquiringly.

"May I?"

[BetaFlame]

He glances at the man. Truly? He had not heard? "Well, he isn't terrorizing the country side. But 'luck' might be a bit of a stretch for that whole sordid affair. Myself, Agnie and Renea were able to defeat his demon possessed form. I -" How to phrase this bit? He gives a rueful little smirk, with a shrug, "Took up the burden of the axe that corrupted him. Its now safely imprisoned. Which is why Catch is interested in my head. He thinks the axe is there, and they are they friends. Or some such." Aleksei would much prefer to stay as far away from the madman as possible. It was fairly clear that fighting him head on would not accomplish anything, not after the earthquake. "Catch is a puzzle. I am good at puzzles. But I would prefer to work this puzzle as far away from Catch as possible, you know?"

He gestures at the steel and shakes his head, "Use it as you see fit. One is harder and holds a edge better, but is prone to shattering. One is soft and flexible, making the steel tough. Mix them in the right quantities, and you can make near anything perfectly. I have some texts at home I can send you."

As the man gestures at the sword, he merely nods and takes a step back, slowly unsheathing the blade. Dark and light steel mix to form an almost organic pattern of swirls. It was a very well made blade. Balanced, and polished. He had taken more than a little care in creating it. Single edged with a very slight curve, it was about the length of your average longsword all told, but maybe half as wide. Still, wider than a rapier.

"One of my better forges. I am particularly proud of that one."

Ah, yes. Aleksei missed being able to talk about such things with another smith. It almost made him forget why he was here.

[Cinnabar]

"He's dead?" Well, that was news, yes, and welcome, to judge from the satisfaction in the set of his mouth. It's not something he'd heard shouted from the rooftops, though maybe it should've been. "Good. It's been a time coming." And well overdue; too many lives lost, innocent lives, and all for one man's selfishness. Too high a price. He turns his head to spit onto the farmyard cobbles for good measure.

"Axe, though? No, he was lost well before there was any axe involved. Too proud, too sure of himself. Didn't give a shit for anyone else, only what suited him in the moment. I ought've hanged him long since." He'd tried, sent Constables out after the rogue Marshall, but lost too many; each of them good men, each easily worth ten of Karolinger. "Better that he rots."

And they could carve that on the whoreson's headstone, if he had one.

On the matter of Catch, though, Calomel shakes his head, an impatient gesture for all that he does his best to remain polite for the sake of his guest.

"Catch isn't a puzzle. Nor a problem to be overcome. He's a man, a broken and lost one." Between the bespectacled newcomer and Glenn Burnie himself it was increasingly unsurprising that they'd seen so little progress in their efforts with the addled man. "He doesn't need solving, or fixing. He needs help." Guidance, even. But if Aleksei had been reassigned to other concerns then perhaps the issue was moot.

That drawn blade provides a welcome enough distraction, then, a subject on which they might hope to agree. He inspects it with a critical eye, intrigued by the rippling of light and dark along the length of the blade. A sabre of sorts, maybe, made for sweeping cuts against lightly-armoured opponents but balanced more for fencing rather than slashing from horseback. "I'd like to borrow those texts, certainly. I suspect this is some way beyond my skills, but it's always interesting to study something new."

A nod and he steps back, his curiosity satisfied for now. "I've nothing comparable of my own work, but could show you a halfway-decent shovel or two if you like." A wry grin with that, and a nod for the forge's open doors.

[BetaFlame]

He decides to leave the subject of Aeryn alone for now. He knows if Cinnabar is truly curious to see the end of that tale, he has access and can read it for himself. Aeryn was dead and gone, and Kharnagar with him and they were all the better for it. Kharnagar might come back someday, but Aleksei hoped it would not be in his own life time. Or the lifetime of this generations great grand children. He hoped this would be better than killing the damn thing, honestly.

But Aleksei did not know the man, and now had two deeply conflicting accounts of him. Interesting.

He would sheathe the blade and step inside with Cinnabar and give him a little smile "Truthfully, I wish I was not so skilled a forging weapons. It just is another reminder of bloodshed that I would rather forget. I would prefer to make shovels. I try and at least make the weapons pleasant to look upon."

Once they get inside, he looks like he is giving thought to something. "Let me rephrase. There is a puzzle about Catch. Tell me, what do you know about the night of the earthquake, Catch's horn, and the statue at the bottom of the lake?" He would loft arch a brow at the man, watching him carefully. Hopefully, he was not another Renea, that saw Catch as nothing more than an overgrown child.

[Cinnabar]

Might as well move those billets into the forge while they're here, and so Calomel busies himself for a moment with the metal rods, scooping them up from the bed of the wagon as a man might pick up a bundle of sticks.

"Better to have a weapon and not need to use it than the other way round." He follows Aleksei into the forge, stacking the steel carefully in a barrel with a collection of billets of simple iron, a moment's pause in the conversation so as not to have to speak over the ringing and jangling of metal. No call for assistance and no real need of it, apparently.

Questions, then, given some thought as the once-Governor moves around the forge, a brief gesture politely guiding Aleksei to a spot where he might not be in the way. A copper kettle is taken from the side of the forge and set on the coals to boil while he hunts down a couple of chipped but serviceable cups from a nearby shelf, briefly swiping a finger round the inside of each.

"Only what I've had from Glenn and the files. The gaol was an effort to keep catch isolated from others. It ultimately failed, possibly because he had nothing to occupy him, no safe outlets for his power. Or possibly something else provoked him, I don't have the details on that." His tone is matter-of-fact, recounting what he knows. An earthenware teapot is retrieved from another shelf, a few pinches of dried leaves added from a tin box.

"The horn and statue were seen at the bottom of the lake, but when the lake drained only the statue was recovered. The statue has changed in appearance and started to bleed since its recovery, and I know first-hand that Catch's reaction to a copy of the statue was extremely poor - something comparable to the destruction of the gaol, from all accounts. I've advised Glenn to keep the original statue well-hidden, preferably away from anywhere populated."

It's not long before the kettle begins to whistle, and there's a moment's interlude while Calomel pours hot water into the pot with an air of familiar ritual.

"The horn's whereabouts are currently unknown, but it's likely every bit as important to keep it away from Catch. He's said so himself."

The pot and cups are set out on the anvil, perhaps slightly incongruous given the setting, and he looks up to Aleksei with a grin.

"Tea?"

[BetaFlame]

He watches the man work, and is glad to see he works. He's human enough, as human as someone much abused by Myrken can be at any rate. Something he can a-test too personally. He takes in what the once-Governor knows, not Ex-Governor, that seems to harsh, but once. He nods at a few points, mostly to show he is listening while his eyes take in all the different bits of the forge he is surrounded by. Seeing how another lays out their work space tells you much about the person.

He considers the tea for a moment. He's not normally a fan, but he just nods his agreement. It was a long walk from the town to here, and he had taken a bit of a chill, "Yes, please."

He waits while he pours before finding a somewhat clean place to hang the white cloak, even if that means putting it outside on the wagon. That white was a symbol of honor to him, and he liked it to remain white. Not.. sooty. Then in total contrast he finds a place to lean while he considers. "There are a few points that you missed. Let me fill them in for you."

"Firstly, Catch was in the gaol because he had kidnapped a small child. The parent and child are not here any longer, so who they are is not as important. There was violence, and he was put in the gaol by Renea Sundance," His eyes roll a little. He can't help it. The woman was a walking disaster area, "to fend off him doing violence as much as violence being done to him."

That was point one. It did not seem important now, but it could be later. He moves on.

"The second point is we don't really know how or why Catch caused the earthquake. And let me finish this train of thought before you interrupt, please," A gentle smile here, it all connects back after a moment, "Catch is not human, as much as he tries to be. We cannot ascribe human motives to the man's actions. That is to say I think he is less than us, just different."

He takes a sip of the tea and blinks down at it. "This is really quite good. Ahem, moving on."

"During the earthquake, rocks were melted in the mountains, and flowed down into the poisoned Silver Lake. That is where the horn and statue were laid to rest. I saw a great fog bank over the lake, and went to it. The fog was toxic, but I had a feeling. A sensation in the back of mind. I risked going inside. The lake was clear and clean, Cinnabar, and floating over it was a great horse. It seemed to be almost made of mist, rolling. It felt.. wrong, somehow. Tentacles of smoke and mist came from its body, but they did not seem to move at random, but rather with purpose. Perhaps the most obviously wrong thing, was the massive scar in the center of its forehead."

There is more, after that of course, but for now he would like to see the once-Governor's reaction to this statement.

[Cinnabar]

The forge itself is kept tidy, orderly, tools stowed neatly but close to hand when needed. Calomel would likely be able to find whatever he needed without even looking, simply by reaching out to the place where each item should be. The best place for the cloak would probably be a peg on one of the doorposts, where Calomel's coat already hangs.

The tea is pleasantly light, refreshing, just the thing to wash the throat of bitter forge smoke. He nods lightly at Aleksei's corrections and elaborations, aware of the matter of the kidnapped child, of Renea's involvement. He catches that expression at mention of the Marshall's name, brows lifting a touch in faint amusement as he sips his own tea.

Not a word as the man explains further, no move to interrupt, giving him time and silence in which to say his piece, waiting until it is clear that he has finished.

"Did you tell Glenn about that? The horse-shape, that is. It wasn't mentioned in the report I had." He wouldn't be surprised if it had been omitted from Aleksei's account, perhaps previously dismissed as a trick of the light or side-effect of whatever had tainted the fog. Certainly there were marks of similarity that tied it to the addled man, but enough for it to be included in the official statement? Perhaps not.

"Catch was once a man - a child, even. A long time ago. He's been changed and maimed and broken since then, and now he's a great deal more than human." He can't help but grin at the idea that the man might somehow be less. "But he remembers. We can ascribe motives to his actions, but often very basic ones; he craves acceptance, companionship and approval. He greatly dislikes being struck or intimidated. There are physical comforts - rum and cakes, for instance - that he enjoys."

Another sip of tea, grey eyes watching his visitor carefully.

"He is not entirely human, no. But he has wants and needs which influence his actions. He's not a, a force of nature to be endured or worshipped as beyond human understanding. He can be understood, but it takes a different point of view from the purely human."

[BetaFlame]

He listens to Cinnbar, thinking carefully while he sips the tea. Catch was clearly more, and somehow less, than human. He was hampered by his inability to understand. The question about the hose-shape has him wracking his brain. Had he told Glenn? He honestly.. can't remember. It had been a hectic time, and the fog had done fairly serious injury to him. The worst he had suffered here in Myrken.

"To your first question, I will be honest Cinnabar. I do not remember. There are certain things that Glenn omits from the Catch report - mostly for public safety, I believe. I may have told him, and it may have slipped his mind. Then again, I may not have. It was a hectic time, and the fog did a work over on me." He snorts a little and takes another sip of tea, as if that could wash away the memory of the taste of his own throat rotting. "On top of that, it was shortly after this that the lake drained away, and I was focused on retrieving that statue you are familiar with. Wait, did you say it started bleeding?!" He looks a bit shocked to hear this. Could it be contact with the horn? Or was the statue itself part of the corruption? Could it have added to the corruption of the lake? He just shakes his head a little. More and more questions and fewer and fewer answers.

"I will agree whole-heartedly with your last sentiment. Anything, anything at all can be understood. Unfortunately, I am better with the abstract than I am with people. I will say this, I do not think Catch has a firm grasp of cause and effect. Maybe starting to teach him that will help? I honestly don't know, Cinnabar. In someways, I am less human because I cannot grasp the emotion of it. I'm an academic." He has no problem admitting his own failings in dealing with Catch. Cinnabar was right, he had approached it like a puzzle, and not a person. Maybe that was his failing. "I am glad someone with a better grasp has it now."

There were other things to discuss, but at least this gave him a judge of the man's mind. It was a good conversation.

[Cinnabar]

Entirely understandable that the man might've omitted his vision, given the state of affairs at the time. So, a shrug, the information filed away for now.

"Bleeding, yes. From the eyes and mouth, and in fair quantity. It's possible that these changes came about because of the horn's absence, but that's pure speculation." He waves a hand to dismiss the idea as of little practical use.

"Mainly I'm hoping to teach him focus - to help him stay grounded, if that's possible. We'll see. You and Glenn and the rest have been beating your heads against it for a long time, so maybe a different perspective will help." He sips his tea, shrugging again. He's hopeful, certainly, but not about to make any promises he's not sure he can keep. "From what I've heard, the biggest problem so far has been outside interference. For every attempt that's been made to help keep Catch safe - to others and from others - someone or something has come along and torn off the bandages."

[BetaFlame]

Outside interference is one way to put it. "Everyone wants to help Catch, but no one really wants to, you understand? Everyone wants to be the hero, but no one really wants what is best for Catch, just want his best for them. In all honesty, I don't envy you. Aeryn was a problem I could understand and grasp. Catch isn't. Just from our brief talk, you seem better suited to this than I, and I am glad you are dealing with it." He frowns a little, and shakes his head. He looks a little lost in thought for a moment. "Catch was doing fairly well before the earthquake. He was working on a greenhouse with Renea. He had a goal, and he felt good. It was probably the only thing she did right with him. The gaol was a disaster of epic proportions." That was putting it mildly. Since then, Catch had been more unstable. More prone to anger.

"You should read the files and reports I wrote on Aeryn and the Daemons, Cinnabar. Catch is linked with them somehow. He thinks of them like a lost family of his, or something. Maybe because they are ancient and he feels connected to their age? I do not understand it. But they were the cause of him cracking my head on that table, and will be the cause of other sorted violence by Catch, I assure you. Those things... represent the worst aspects of human emotions." He smiles a little and shifts his weight to lean against the surface near him a little more, "Listen to me, rambling like a mad man. I'm sorry, its a conceit I share with Glenn. I love the sound of my own voice. Before I move into the topic that truly brought me here to speak with you, is there anything I can answer for you?"