Two Edicts from Afar

[Reinstadler]

The people of Myrkentown have seen everything and experienced even more. Getting their attention was never an easy task. Holding it for any length of time was even harder. During a busy market day at the beginning of Spring, it was almost impossible. People would stand upon boxes and shout words fairly often: pronouncements of religious doom, vehement denouncements of rotund tax collectors, personal grievances with one's neighbors that just needed to get aired out to the general public. The inanity of these things made them very easy to ignore.

How was it, then, that this current speaker seemed so able to hold the heavily populated square's attention?

He had a scroll in his hands. He was reading off of it. That was a good start. It SEEMED to have some sort of seal on it, or at least that's what the people in front reported, and such reports were whispered all the way back through the mob. Most of the people who stood and spoke couldn't read. It was helpful to seem like you could. It made you seem more intelligent and interesting.

The man had apparently claimed said seal to be ROYAL. That was the sort of thing that would certainly arouse attention. The king was a far off figure but a curiosity nonetheless. For so many years the rule had been hands off. Why would a decree be coming down now? Now, with the war between Derry and Burel on their border?

The man spoke clearly and loudly. He had to in order to be heard over the whisperings and grumblings "...as agreed upon in the accord dated 11 AR, Cinnabar Calomel, upon accepting the title of Governor of Myrken Wood, with all of its responsibilities, is required to journey to the royal throne and pledge due fealty to HM King Chedwry II. The law states that this must be done within three months of taking office, but as this law has only recently been recovered, forgiveness is granted so long as Governor Calomel leaves for Razasan at the earliest possible moment."

The crowd respond loudly and quickly. Certainly, they began to speak amongst themselves, trying to make sense of this seemingly outlandish demand. It was only when they realized the man was still making his announcements that they reluctantly returned to near-silence. "... and found upon the lists of those receiving His gracious Mercy is one Aeryn Karolinger, Marshall of the Knights of Janeiro, currently incarcerated in Myrken Wood. Marshall Karolinger is hereby been pardoned for all previous offenses and is to be released immediately. This pardon does not extend to future offenses." The scroll was carefully rolled up as the speaker finished. "These edicts are to be posted in highly visible areas for public consumption. That is all. Thank you."

He would then try to slip back through the increasingly roused crowd to return from whence he came. Already the news was beginning to spread through the streets, especially that second part. It was public knowledge, knowledge of great interest, that Karolinger's hanging was upcoming. He was as polarizing a figure as existed in Myrken. And now? Now he was to be freed. It would spread to every part o town within the hour, even as posters noting the decrees began to find their way to the walls and taverns of Myrkentown.

[channe]

On her way to the Government offices, wearing a smart tunic and pants, her rapier and the Myrken Militia armband, Agnieszka Kaczmarek crosses her arms and watches the messenger from the crowd.

There is a strange look on her face, a mixture of apprehension and relief, of sheer and utter relief, as she grabs the dolphin at her throat and tugs it tight into her fist, feeling the metal digging into her palm.

The day after Calomel leaves?
That wasn't in Aeryn's plans. He wasn't going to cast his lot with Chedwry, that's for sure, and as soon as he gets free, he's going to do what he said he would, and I -- I will too --

This is something else entirely. Something new.

Those are the two things on her mind; and as soon as the crowd disperses, she's sprinting off to the government offices, where she'll try to use her own position to get more information. What will she hear?

Not once in Agnieszka's eighteen years has Chedwry cared. Not once in her brother's twenty-two; not once in her father's forty-odd. Not once. And now he does, while Burel hovers so close, while Derry lays under siege; she stands before Calomel's empty office, chewing her fingernail. The only reason Chedwry would care is if he needed something from his recalcitrant province. That's what they told her.

This is wierd, she thinks.

There is enough in her to prepare certain documents for eventual dispatch; to keep them to herself, to try to find out what she can by talking to the people on duty. Captain Kaczmarek, she decides, will act like one.

Aeryn would want it.


(EDIT: BIG EDIT)

[Treadwell]

The usually denounced rotund tax collector has, it seems, made his way safely from hospital to toy shop, there to spend the day cleaning the place up and dusting it mightily in vest, shirt, suspenders, trousers, and broad belt of toymaking tools. As the announcements are made, the toymaker-tax taker-councilor-priest pauses, wobbling to a window with his cane to open the shutter a touch and listen.

Afterward, the window clicks shut quietly, and Treadwell goes back to his business, grumbling about various absurdities.

But, Aloisius Horatio Treadwell realizes, in Cinnabar Calomel's absence. . .

Someone has to watch out for Myrken Wood's best interests against blithering-blathering, loud-mouthed foreigners.

[Vanidor]

In his confinement within the former Janerio fortress outside of Myrkentown, the news eventually came to the once Marshal and caused a soft chuckle to escape his lips. He was immediately up off of his bed, bare feet slapping against the worked stone flooring and a little capering dance was forthcoming. A circle made around the soldier who had brought him the news, along with the fresh set of clothing requested the day before. He even went so far to plant a kiss upon the cheeks of the surprised man, then grab his clothing with his remaining hand.

The soldier would be shooed out of the room, with the naked stump of his left hand, and the door unceremoniously kicked shut. Another chuckle of glee, bare feet kicking against one another after a jump into the air. The new clothes were tossed upon the single table, his good hand reaching up to brush through his tangled locks of hair. A comb would be needed for that. Some clippers for the beard that had slowly started to come in over the past month and change. Hrm. Perhaps not. It felt good to have hair on his cheeks, though he'd been against the custom before his incarceration. It added a certain sinister air to him, he figured. Especially with a hacked off hand. He'd have to change his general sense of fashion as well. Perhaps something more somber.

No.

Too many folk here favoured the dark colourations of blacks and greys and deep browns. Red was certainly out, as much as he'd love to be back in the comfortable crimson and white uniform he had started his military career in. What was left then, there was a glance towards the clothing brought to him. A blue tunic, simple and ready for the heat of the Myrken summer. Simple leather breeks, dyed a light brown. His wide belt would do, once he managed to get it on. Boots were still serviceable, and black on them was common enough, yes? They needed to be polished, for they were still marred from the trek into the forest. A new scabbard for his sabre. Probably a new sabre as well, though he could certainly revert to using the rapier like he had when originally come to Myrken. Or maybe a schiavona, like Ariane favoured. He liked the heft of a heavier weapon.

He laughed at himself once again, single hand undoing the row of toggles that bound his shirt together. There was time enough to deal with the particulars later. Right now he needed to wash up as best as the bucket in the corner would allow, and then wander himself out of this fortress. Once more, Aeryn Karolinger cackled like a lunatic, and proceeded to clean himself up.

[Lent]

Jamie and Pat O'Hara

"Well, what're you thinking, cuz?" As Aeryn Karolinger dressed, two Constables stood right outside the door. Both had very noticable red hair though one was both older and a bit more rotund than the other. It was he who had spoken first, his tone very serious. In fact, his round face was covered with worry lines.

"I'm thinking this is pure bull, Pat. That's what I'm thinking." The younger one was constantly in motion. Right now he was pacing back and forth around his cousin and in front of that door. "We're here to help out, right? We're here to make sure he doesn't leave, right? We're here to make sure that the blasted murderer of Charles McCoy doesn't get to walk, no matter what, right? We've got orders to deal with anything from him hacking up a lung to Duke Burel himself showing up with an army. Royal decree, though? What the hell! He killed one of our own in cold blood. We're not letting him out." He went so far as to shout at the door. "We're not letting you out, you bleeding murderer!"

A large hand came down with care upon the younger Constable's shoulder. "You're right, Jamie. We're not." Those worry lines weren't going away though. Quite the opposite, as he continued. "At least, we're not until we get an order from someone that we listen to." And apparently, the king wasn't on that list. "We know what the Governor would want."

"Yeah, we do!" The younger O'Hara cousin pulled away from the big man's hand. "We know exactly what he'd want and it's for us to head out there and hang the bastard right now, before any further orders come."

Pat's brow furrowed even further as he thought about that. "Yeah? Maybe. Heck, probably. That's what High Constable Calomel would have wanted. I don't think that's what Governor Calomel needs us to do though. And I'm not explaining to your Ma why I just stood by and let you commit treason, anyway." There was a slight whine to his voice, but it was very slight. "And don't go off on excuses we could make. No one would believe them. I don't want to explain to your Ma how you got killed by the Kaczmarek girl either."

"I'm not afraid of Agnieskza Kaczmarek! Someone ought to teach her a thing or two anyway. I bet she can't bake at all. What sort of woman can't bake? It's like she doesn't ever want to be a good wife! Not that anyone but an idiot would take her." Jamie seemed to be about Agnie's age and didn't take kindly to the thought of being afraid of any woman.

"Oh, yes. Great. Just shout that out right in front of Karolinger's door." Pat's stomach grumbled slightly with the stress of it all. Despite appearances, he was actually rather fit for his size. It came as something of a surprise to anyone thinking they could make an easy escape from him at least. Granted, when he had taken the job he had been a good deal slimmer. He had gotten married shortly thereafter and his wife... well, she COULD bake, and quite well at that.

That just brought more of a scowl to Jamie's face. "I'm not afraid of any one-handed Thesshole either. In fact, I want him to give me an excu..."

Pat's fist came down hard upon his cousin's shoulder. "Stow it. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to keep guard on this door and keep him in there right until the moment we get the order to do something else, got it?"

The younger Constable rubbed at his shoulder and looked at the other man sharply. Finally, he sighed and gave in. "Yeah, cuz. Yeah. I guess that's what we'll do then."

[Lent]

Jamie and Pat O'Hara

It had been a near disaster.

There were very few Constables at the Fort. It was mainly soldiers of the New Myrken Army staffing it. It was these men who initially freed Aeryn Karolinger, who provided him with what he requested, who sent the notice off to Councilor Guillaume, being the current head of government, that according to the news of the royal pardon, the ex-Marshall was being freed. It was only after clothes were delivered, almost literally the moment where Karolinger was cackling to himself, that the man's door was locked from the outside. Two Constables, having just come from a long shouting match with the rather alarmist soldier in charge of the fort, positioned themselves right in front of that door.

"Well, what're you thinking, cuz?" Both men had very noticable red hair though one was both older and a bit more rotund than the other. It was he who had spoken first, his tone very serious. In fact, his round face was covered with worry lines.

"I'm thinking this is pure bull, Pat. That's what I'm thinking." The younger one was constantly in motion. Right now he was pacing back and forth around his cousin and in front of that door. "They were just going to let him go! On some dubious say so! We're here to make sure he doesn't leave, right? We're here to make sure that the blasted murderer of Charles McCoy doesn't get to walk, no matter what, right? That's what we're going to do, even if we have to stand off against every soldier in this place!. We've got orders to deal with anything from him hacking up a lung to Duke Burel himself showing up with an army. Royal decree, though? What the hell! He killed one of our own in cold blood. We're not letting him out." He went so far as to shout at the door. "We're not letting you out, you bleeding murderer!"

A large hand came down with care upon the younger Constable's shoulder. "You're right, Jamie. We're not letting him out." Those worry lines weren't going away though. Quite the opposite, as he continued. "At least, we're not until we get an order from someone that we listen to." Apparently, the king wasn't on that list. That had been the agreement that they made with the man in charge of the fort. They wait for an official order from Calomel or Guillaume. "We know what the Governor would want."

"Yeah, we do!" The younger O'Hara cousin pulled away from the big man's hand. "We know exactly what he'd want and it's for us to head out there and hang the bastard right now, before any further orders come."

Pat's brow furrowed even further as he thought about that. "Yeah? Maybe. Heck, probably. That's what High Constable Calomel would have wanted. I don't think that's what Governor Calomel needs us to do though. And I'm not explaining to your Ma why I just stood by and let you commit treason, anyway." There was a slight whine to his voice, but it was very slight. "And don't go off on excuses we could make. No one would believe them. I don't want to explain to your Ma how you got killed by the Kaczmarek girl either."

"I'm not afraid of Agnieskza Kaczmarek! Someone ought to teach her a thing or two anyway. I bet she can't bake at all. What sort of woman can't bake? It's like she doesn't ever want to be a good wife! Not that anyone but an idiot would take her." Jamie seemed to be about Agnie's age and didn't take kindly to the thought of being afraid of any woman.

"Oh, yes. Great. Just shout that out right in front of Karolinger's door." Pat's stomach grumbled slightly with the stress of it all. Despite appearances, he was actually rather fit for his size. It came as something of a surprise to anyone thinking they could make an easy escape from him at least. Granted, when he had taken the job he had been a good deal slimmer. He had gotten married shortly thereafter and his wife... well, she COULD bake, and quite well at that.

That just brought more of a scowl to Jamie's face. "I'm not afraid of any one-handed Thesshole either. In fact, I want him to give me an excu..."

Pat's fist came down hard upon his cousin's shoulder. "Stow it. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to keep guard on this door and keep him in there right until the moment we get the order to do something else, got it?"

The younger Constable rubbed at his shoulder and looked at the other man sharply. Finally, he sighed and gave in. "Yeah, cuz. Yeah. I guess that's what we'll do then." So they stood there in front of the locked door, waiting for an order.