A Visit to the Marshall

[Lent]

"You're too happy about this, Kurt." Charles McCoy was no hypocrite. He certainly did NOT look happy. In fact, the young constable looked downright miserable. It had been a hard week and this was going to just top off the heaping mug of grief. "It's got me worried."

The taller, darker, and much, much less shaven man walking beside him with far worse posture, just snorted at that. "Look, son," Kurt Lentham began, "you've got nothing to worry about, see. We go in. We drop off our written request to Karolinger. We leave."

A cautious pause followed by even more cautious words. "You'll let me do the talking, Kurt?" It was quite possibly the cheekiest thing McCoy's ever said to his partner.

"Ha! You're the one who drew a sword on Jons Feul. And might I say that I'm glad to have you still alive and in one piece after THAT little act of stupidity, which, might I add, the High Constable, doesn't want you to repeat." Lentham was not about to pass up a chance for a drink and he took it then and there, out of his flask, toasting the Governor. "I see how you listen to him but not to me." There was another snort as he swallowed the drink.

"Aw, c'mon Kurt. It wasn't like that! And, look. It'll be a learning experience, right? To let me do the talking." Rationalization was in full force. Unfortunately, Lentham was more or less immune to bullshit, given that he spewed so much of it himself on a daily basis.

"God, boy, what are you expecting me to say to the Marshall? I don't even know what I'm about to say. We'll make a party out of it, though, find out all together, the three of us. Come on, then. Let's go find the bastard." And the two walked forth, past the men drilling, past where they had picked up the Kaczmarek girl only a few days before.

[Vanidor]

They would be met by a pair of guards, armoured unlike any who were currently training upon horseback in the wide field before Fortress Supmter, or those within who carried themselves in half armour and swung makeshift poleaxes and bardiche's at one another like children at play. Perhaps, for these mercenaries, that was exactly what this was. Lucky for those who got thumped, that the blades were made of wood and not steel.

If McCoy and Lentham looked closely, some of them -were- training with live steel. Those were in a circle all on their lonesome.

But in any case. Back to those guards who stood like metallic sentinels before a door that was marked as leading to the central location of Brotherhood Command. They looked almost impassive, what with those great helmets swung down over their faces so that only their jaws, and eyes, were visible. At least, until one of the men -winked- at the two constables while the other opened the door before they even truly got a chance to announce themselves. There was silence for a moment, until the man who winked motioned into the sun-lit interior.

"The Marshal is expecting you, Gentlemen, even if you are a bit late... Please, step inside and help yourselves to some punch, and perhaps a scone or two. Fresh made this morning. A runner has been sent to fetch the Marshal from the training field." In a cheery voice, non-the-less. If they would follow the request, for it was that and not an order in any way. The two would find a short corridor of close hewn stone and wood, that led to an... office. There was nothing else to call it. An office, in which a portrait of a man in flames stood upright against one wall (Lentham might recognize that one as Kerrak al`Nerun, the last man to command these mercenaries), and a stand for armour and sword upon another. The rear wall held another door, this one latched shut.Oiling cloths and a barrel to clean mail stood in the far corner.

And true to the guards words, a table to the side indeed held a few sconces and some biscuits, one or two half eaten as if in a haste. A half full bowl of punch, with what looked like early harvested strawberries floating within. Severals beaten tin cups sat in a circle around it, two seemed to have been used and turned then on their sides.

In here, it was, that the two men were requested to wait. If they so choose.

[Lent]

There was a poking, a mild stirring of the punch. "Hey, uh, Kurt." McCoy had done most of the recognizing. You can't hold it against his partner. The man had been put so close to death by the Brotherhood back at Haberdasher's Row that he had come back to life with a great deal missing. "You think Karolinger has the punch spiked?"

"Phffft." Or at least that was a close approximation to the noise that escaped Lentham's lips. "One thing you ought to remember, son. Aeryn Karolinger might run around the Dagger acting like an ass, but here he takes his responsibility here seriously enough."

"Is that a yes or a no, Kurt?" By now McCoy was reluctantly pouring himself a glass.

"How the hell would I know? What am I, a detective?" Lentham lifted his flask up, toasting the younger Constable as both drank in unison. "We were that late, huh?"

McCoy licked his lips a few times, trying to place the taste of the punch. Didn't SEEM spiked at least. "A little." He lifted his head up to look at his partner. It's because you walk so damn slow, Kurt, but you know that, don't you?

"Well, now we wait, then." Lentham stretched his neck idly. The paper was still in his hand. "Have a scone, son. Hell, have two."

[Vanidor]

Their wait would last for the quarter of an hour, the time shown by a water clock set into the same corner as the barrel of sand and oil-stained fabrics. Then that door would open and allow the Marshal himself to step into the office. His helm was tucked under his arm with sweat staining the sides of his face and had slicked his hair up into whorls where it had obviously sat under the helmet. His eyes took them both of the Constables in for a moment, and he obviously was -weighing- them in his mind. Lentham was right about Karolinger, for certain. He may play the fool now and again, and truly act it after a bottle or two of liquor, but he did not hold this position simply because he had a strong arm.

Was it something for these two men to take back to Cinnabar? Perhaps.

"Gentlemen!" His first words were bright. Cheery. "Welcome to Fort Sumpter, again if I may say. I hope the punch was palatable, I did no have the chance to add any brandy to it this morning before drilling." A chuckle to his lips here, and then he would step around the desk that sat towards the rear of the office. He did not sit, nor did he offer seats to the two men. The helmet was placed down upon the desk, and his eyes once again swept over the duo.

"I can only presume you are here because of Second Captain Jons and Sister Kaczmarek. Please, whatever it is you have to say, say it, and let us be done with this."

[Lent]

Aha. McCoy was quite glad he hadn't made a bet this time, though a quarter hour of boredom had almost led to that. "Very goo.." He started.

"Accchheemm." Lentham interrupted. "Hnnum. Sorry about that, Marshall. Something in my throat." He took the flask from his side and held it up to the man, as if toasting him. Then, a drink. Cool. Calm. Taking his damn time. "It's good of you to see us yourself. We appreciate that. Detective Constable Kurt Lentham. And this is the bright star of the Constabulary, Constable Charles McCoy. Brave man. Pulled a sword on your Second Captain. I thought he ought to get a medal for that. I should know. I've got one of those damn things."

The younger Constable, for once, wasn't about to just get rolled over by Lentham. Too much was at stake here. This had to be done right. "We have here a written request that Sister Kaczmarek be made available for further questioning, Marsall. We understand that she plays a role in defending Myrken but this is a criminal investigation and under Myrken law you are obliged to comply with our request. Failure to do so could be viewed as obstructing Detective Constable Lentham and I in our duties, which is itself a criminal act." His words had been quite serious throughout. It is only at the end that he softened slightly. "We are, sir, simply trying to do our duty, no different than you."

Was that word for word what Cinnabar had said? Damn well close enough, and you could tell that just by looking at the slightly annoyed glance on Lentham's face. There went all his fun. He'd have to take it out on McCoy's pride later.

[Vanidor]

"Of course. Tell you the truth, Jons was quite impressed with your actions, Constable McCoy. He was rather surprised that no one did try to stop him when he came to fetch Sister Kaczmarek. Still." And here it was that the Marshal reached down into his desk and retrieving a thick sheaf of parchment. He would pause a moment, flip several pages downwards in it, and then it was set down before the two men. He still hadn't sat.

"Here we go. This did be laid down when we took over the charter to be the official military and policing force which operated within Myrken. I cannot say what wrangling it took to get into our contract, but Kerrak, he did be grand at wrangling what he required when it had to be." Of course, there was no mention of the fact that Kerrak had both led the Brotherhood and had been the Councilor of Defense. Had there been much wrangling at all in that regard?

"Feel free to peruse, but it creates the Brotherhood a status that do put us outside of the normal jurisdiction of the Judiciary Council in states of Emergency or Threat of War. Which do mean that we are no bound by the laws set in place by the Governor or the Council during the course of the conflict around us." Here he paused, looking past the two Constables and at the doorway that led outwards. His lips pursed a moment.

"However, I do not wish to make it seem that we are completely flouting the law you Constables hold so dearly too. So there is this. A compromise, perhaps. She is out at the Wall, as it is. Assisting in the transfer of the men Altias Bromn brought with him into Myrken from Xanth Grange. You are, of course, cleared to visit her there where she is. Or, you may wait until her tour is completed and pick her brain as much as you desire. I will not stop you from questioning her when she is finished completing her duty."

[Lent]

"Very generous, Mister Karolinger. Very generous. But, here's the thing about that," Lentham was staring down into his flask, a slight frown upon his face. "Hmmm. Looks like I need a refill."

"Kurt. I think that..." McCoy took the man's distraction as a chance to interject before it was too late.

And then the flask was back down at his side and there was a dark smile upon Lentham's face. "I think that you are outranked right now, Constable McCoy, so shut your mouth and I'll be sure to say some nice words for you later when we write the report." Slow, meandering steps took him over to the parchment, which he slowly began to peruse. "Interesting, interesting, interesting indeed. Oh yes, but here's the thing. This is Myrken. When the fuck aren't we in a state of Emergency?" He lifted the seemingly empty flask up and turned it over, causing a noxious brown liquid to pour all over the contract. "Huh, just imagine.... It wasn't empty after all. Damn clumsy oversight, that."

Then he was turned and heading towards the exit. "I say that we'll want to see Sister Kaczmarek back in Headquarters within the week or dare I say, things might get a bit hairy for the lot of us. Thank you ever so much for your time, Marshall."

[Vanidor]

"I have more if you wish them, Detective Constable Kurt Lentham. Besides, the thing do be on records in the Meetinghouse. We made certain to have enough of them about in case of this situation. You may have access to Sister Kaczmarek as I said. And I will no stand before you in this matter. Otherwise..."

And here, Aeryn leaned forwards in his desk. The door, they would find, would be suddenly barred by the two guards who had been so cheerful outside. Surely, it seemed as if they 'fought' to open the door first for their two guests. But when had they gotten inside?

"Otherwise... I wish no more fighting with the Constables, but I will no allow you to break the contract we have. You have it for two more years, Detective. If it even matters." And he said it with a brilliant smile. As if it was nothing. Was he mad? Did the two Constables know what had occurred this morning on the edge of the town?

"Please. Give my regards to Governor Cinnabar, he is welcome to come and speak with me if he wishes. Perhaps he and I can be more... Well." And with a nod, the two men right themselves, opening the door with only a small hitch as one gets out of the way of the other.

[Lent]

Lentham was towards the door, at the first moment the Marshall was done speaking, even before though he couldn't get far. McCoy had lingered, polite if nothing else and made a last, tight, nod to Karolinger, aping his partner's statement: "Thank you for your time." A moment later, he was rushing out the door after the older man. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. He was the one who was going to have to explain all of this to Cinnabar. He just knew it. Well, at least they weren't dead. Not dead is good.