by Eivor » Mon Aug 09, 2021 4:11 pm
Ely edit 10 Aug 2021:
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x
Total: 4 qps
*****************************************
Sullen eyes peer cautiously from under the hood of a tattered cloak. Eivor Trave holds a worn diary close to herself, open to a half filled page and writing feverishly with a nub of coal ground down to a fine point. She stops for a moment to wipe her brow, light it’s hot today, she thought as she lowers her hand and sighs when she realizes they are coated in coal dust and her brown now surely is as well. She grimaces as she feel her stomach turn in the shallow cavity of her abdomen. Despite being mid summer, food was scarce in Lugard. She occasionally heard the farmers passing by speak of “strange times” with the crops this year, the result of numerous pests and disease decimating the fields. Even the Inns in the city that would occasionally throw out scraps from the previous evening used what little there was to feed the cats and horses. Eivor’s stomach twisted again, reminding her of her present situation.
Five years ago, during a dispute between two lesser lords of Murandy, the city was overrun and both of her parents were killed. Since then, she has been surviving on the streets through whatever means necessary.
Food, Eivor thought, food first, then shelter for the night.
She looked up into the dimming sky, dark clouds rolling in over the horizon. A storm was coming, she definitely had to find a roof tonight.
Slowly, and a bit painfully from sitting too long, Eivor stood up. She took a look down both directions of the back ally, and picked the one that entered the street less busy. It wouldn’t do to have some guard or pompous do-good citizen catch what she was about to do. Despite the hard times, the Murandian king had only increased penalties in the city for theft and disorder. The first infraction would land you in a cell, food there was worse than anything you could find lying on the ground on the streets, and besides, Eivor had already used up her 1st infraction. The 2nd and 3rd offenses led to the dismemberment of one’s hands, the dominant one taken the latter of the two. Eivor looked at her own hand and shuddered.
No, she thought to herself, it wouldnt do to get caught again…
The ally opened up into a wide street. Signs of heavy traffic littered the ground but as people started making their ways to their homes for dinner and to wait out the storm, this one was nearly empty.
Eivor began walking down one side of the street, fully aware of the comedic quality of her confident strut of a person who knows exactly where they are going combined with the image of a street urchin, who’s tattered cloths barely concealed a gaunt frame underneath.
In about an hours time, Eivor stopped roaming to sit back in a small side alley next to a rough, weather stained inn. The sign out front was clearly legible though, “The Domani Wench’s Kiss” it read. Inside, Eivor could hear the innkeeper getting tables ready for what was surely to be another raucous evening. Eivor could imagine men and women gathered in there, laughing, drinking, fighting… and she hated them for it. None of them knew what it was like wondering where their next meal was going to come from. None of them knew what it was like spending nights soaked to the bone, sleeping in the rain after being caught, beaten, and bloodied for laying down on the wrong person porch. None of them knew….
Just then the side door of the inn swung open. A skinny kitchen servant holding a stained wooden bowl poked his head out and peered into the growing shadows. Eivor quickly pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath and trying o remain perfectly still. The servant did not see her or simply paid her no mind, one look up at the sky and the growing thunderclouds and he quickly tossed the contents of the bowl out into cobblestone alleyway, and ducked back into the inn, door slamming behind him.
Eivor cautiously made her way towards the refuse, in the twilight she could make out the rough outlines of plump, but pitted turnips. The parts that remained would be in such a state that even the “fine and respectable” frequenters of the Wench’s Kiss wouldn’t eat them, and no amount of preparation could mask the foul and putrid smell emanated from their brown, shriveled surface.
Just as Eivor reached out to grab the closest one, a low growl filled the air around her. Panicked, she quickly drew her hand back and looked around. Three sets of glowing eyes emerged from the broken wooden crates piled up near the side door of the inn. As they got nearer, Eivor saw that the eyes were attached to three mangy, snarling dogs, spittle flowing freely from their tooth filled snarls.
Slowly, Eivor backed away. In the streets you didn’t last long taking chances just because you were desperate, and desperate as she was, she didn't stand a chance against three hungry dogs, malnourished as they were.
She didn’t turn her back on them until she was back into the dimly lit street, and only then once she heard their ravenous gorging on a meal that wouldn’t be fit for a trolloc, let alone a human or dogs. Sighing she passed by the front windows of the inn, a few patrons had already started coming in, sitting at the simple tables with crusty bread and steaming bowls of stew in front of them. Eivor licked her lips and stared.
She could try and sneak into the kitchen and grab whatever was handy, but it seemed to risky. Inn kitchens were always bustling places, she would almost certainly get caught, and she was rather fond of keeping both of her hands.
The innkeeper himself would take one look at her and refuse to serve her so much as a glass of water without seeing copper up front. Plus she had pulled the ol’ Dine and Dash too many times now, and every innkeeper from here to the palace knew her face and name, and not in a good way.
Eivor reached into her pockets. The piece of coal she had been writing with earlier finally was at the end of its life, and was nothing more than a thick black powder covering everything in there. Not her diary though, that was special, that was kept in a secret pocket she had sewn into the inseam of her breeches. Beside the coal dust, which she blew into the air from her palm face up, she had a rusty needle with a small length of thread attached to it, a small wooden figuring of what she thought might have been a cat (the artist was a young boy who gave it to her in exchange for half a loaf of bread she snagged from the baker one day), a water skin with a hole in the bottom, and a single copper penny.
Won’t get very far with that, Eivor realized.
Just as her stomach groaned at her for what seemed like the hundredth time today, the sound of hooves and the rolling of plated carriage wheels on stone caught here ear from the next street over. Running through another small alley that reeked of human waste, she peered around the corner of a tailor shop. This street was larger than the other, and better lit which was unfortunate for anyone trying their luck at pickpocketing unwary travelers here.
Rolling down the street was one of the most ornate carriages Eivor had ever seen. Black as the night, but polished so heavily that it seemed to glow with an inner light, the sides of the carriage were decorated with fine silver and gold scroll work. The hubs of the wheels shone a brilliant silver and even the horses wore bridles of fine leather worked with silver and gold chain. Guards marched their horse in rows straddling the carriage, three on each side. The curtains were drawn across the windows of the carriage so Eivor could not see what Lord or Lady it was that owned such an extravagant vehicle.
Eivor chuckled quietly to herself when she realized that even if she was close enough to spit in the Lord or Lady’s face, she still wouldn’t be able to put a name to them. Light, they could tell her they were the bloody King of Murandy or Queen of Andor herself and she wouldn’t know the difference.
What really caught her attention however, was the chest hanging off the back of the carriage. Surely whoever rode in such finery must carry gold, jewels, silks, anything of which could set her up for her entire life, and then some! It would’nt even be worth the thought if Eivor hadn’t noticed that the carriage guards, clearly uncomfortable with passing through this part of the city, their heads darting wildly looking from side to side, were riding too far front, expecting danger to come from any of the upcoming alley’s.
Eivor did not like stealing. Most of what she took were things that others had already thrown out themselves, and didn’t really count as thievery in her mind, despite what the law said. This though…once more and she could live comfortably, never having to steal again. Besides, the owner of this carriage obviously could afford a small loss such as this. Maybe she could even help some of the other urchins she knew. Most were cruel, nasty little children, but a few she had grown fond of, and even considered friends.
Just then, as if summoned from her very thoughts, on of the very children she was thinking of darted into the street closely in from of one of the mounted guards. The child was one of the good ones, Elsa? Elysia? She couldn’t remember, her survival instincts were kicking in. Now, now is the time! Eivor though to herself.
While the guards were busy scolding the child the nearly trampled to death, Eivor quickly but quietly made her way toward the back of the carriage. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the needle she saw earlier. The chest was locked, of course, but Eivor had found she had a knack for picking locks, discovered only during the most extreme of needful situations of course. Looking around once more, she saw nobody, but heard the guards up front finishing up explaining to the young girl, Elise, Eivor suddenly remembered, how she should run off now before they call the city guard and report her for impeding traffic.
Light, Eivor thought. Better move quick, if they are so pompous to threated a child with punishment when they clearly weren't watching where they were going, what would they do to a thief they caught red handed?
Quickly Eivor returned her attention to the lock and slid the needle delicately into the keyhole. She felt around for the tumblers inside, she could almost see them, and the metal they were made of. Deftly running through the moving arms of the lock, she heard a silently click as the last tumbler fell into its appropriate place, followed by a guard speaking hesitantly through the darkness, “Hey, is someone back there? What do you think you’re doing?”
Panic set in, Eivor quickly pulled the lock off the chest, threw the lid open and reached in. Her fingers slid through cold, smooth, metal coins. With not a moment to spare she closed her hand around as many as she could and drew them out, loose coins falling through her fingers and clinging on the hard stone street. The sounds drew the attention of the remaining guards, instantly forgetting the verbal abuse they were dishing out to the small girl they almost ran over.
The sounds of hooves rang through the street as the guards whirled their mounts toward her, followed by the dry hiss of swords quickly leaving their scabbards, but Eivor was already on the move. Sprinting into the nearest alley, she was stopped suddenly as her face planted firmly against the riveted leather cuirass of a guard, sending her sprawling back towards the pavement. Reaching out to break her fall, the coins remaining in her hand spilled out over the street as she planted her palm firmly behind her, scraping it against the small pebbles littering the surface of the street carried but the days travelers.
You light blinded fool, Eivor’s thoughts screamed to herself. You didn’t think a mark like that might have had more guards around than the obvious six in plain sight? Realization dawned on her as she saw at least a dozen more guards emerge from the other alleys around the street. They were shadowing the carriage, watching for any who might see the carriage as an easy mark.
Desperately, Eivor watched the last of the rolling coins that fell from her hand roll towards the carriage, and a fine leather boot step on it, halting its movement dead in its place, the side of the coin still shining brightly in the dull glow of the street lamps. On the side of the coin was carved a curved tear drop, the flame of Tar Valon.
Her eyes followed the boot up to velvet breeches, snug to form and being held up by a belt with a gold and silver buckle showing a symbol of a Wolf’s head. Across the person’s mid section they worse a vest inlaid with fine embroidery, lace spilling out of both the sleeves and neckline. A feathered cap sat atop the head of a man with a hardened face, a single scar running across his cheek, marring what would otherwise be seen as a pleasant expression. A small smile crept up one corner of his mouth, as he looked down at the would-be thief.
“Well, well, what do we have here, eh?” The lord spoke as he reached down to grab the coin his boot landed on. He tossed the coin up in the air and snatched with his other hand, tucking it into his belt pouch with one fluid motion.
“My Lord, you needn’t concern yourself with this filth. Please return to the carriage and we will dispose of this...” the guard speaking crinkled his nose at Eivor, as if smelling something foul beyond the dirt of the street on her “...this filth.”
“Oh needn’t I?” the Lord responded with a touch of irritation in his voice. “You are apparently the employer and I the employed now, is it? Do not assume to tell me where I can and cannot go, guardsman. I fought in the Aiel war when you were nothing more than a dirty thought in you Da’s head when he laid his eyes across the flesh of your goat-kissing mother. One street urchin is not going to be the end of me”
“Two, my lord.” another guard muttered. “There were two, they must be working together, they could be a whole lot of them ready to descend upon us at any moment!”
The lord rolled his eyes toward the second guard, staring at him flatly until he shrank back, muttering to himself and scanning the surrounding alleyways as if an ambush could come at any moment. The Lord turned his attention back toward Eivor.
“Now then, where were we? Ah yes, my name, and the name of the person who’s coins you were so hastily trying to relief him of, is Lord Vrisking do Anatia a’Seidher. And who is the urchin that lays here so dangerous apparently to warrant such of my guards mirth?”
Eivor worked her mouth silently, terrified that these were the last few moments of her life. As she worked up the courage to speak, Lord Vrisking began walking around her, gathering up the coins scattered across the street. He paused after picking up each one, looking at her expectantly. Finally Eivor found the words.
“E..E...Eivor, my lord. Eivor Trave. I...I’m sorry I stole from you, it’s just that...I was hungry and I...I throw myself at your mercy!” Eivor shouted the last bit, perhaps hoping that some form of help would hear her and come to her aide, but she knew it would not.
“Hungry, was it?” Lord Vrisking asked, arching an eyebrow. “If it was food you needed child, I have plenty, and would have offered it freely. Why rob me for want of something I surely have plenty of” Lord Vrisking gave his round belly a pat, chuckling to himself.
Eivor searched the stones in front of her, thinking of what to say next. He certainly is not like any lord I’ve heard of before, Eivor thought. Maybe there is a way out of this yet.
Looking up at the Lord, which received a disapproving hiss fro the nearest guard, Eivor responded as eloquently as she could. “My Lord, I beg your pardon, but risks are not something to be taken easily on the streets of Lugard. It was a risk to rob your carriage, yes, but it may have been riskier to ask for alms or food”
Lord Vrisking looked at Eivor inquisitively, his smile broadening into a near grin now. “Go on, child, I’ll hear your whole point before I pass judgment”
“Robbing you assured nearly unlimited gain for me, with the risk being mitigated by my timing, stealth, and guile.” Eivor continued “However, to ask would not only gain me only what mercy you were willing to provide at the moment, but the risk too of being ignored or even beaten for insolence also cannot be mitigated by my own ability and only by your will. Therefore, it was logical to me that the risk of being caught was worth a lifetime of full bellies vs yet another day of meager handouts where the sun would rise on a day I’m no better off then I am today”
Lord Vrisking’s eyes widened, and he stood there for a long moment, staring at Eivor. She slowly got to her feet, despite the growls of the guards around her, and began shuffling her feet nervously. Finally the lord burst out laughing, much to the shock of the guards around him, who looked at each other with puzzled looks.
“Can’t argue with that I suppose,” Lord Vrisking mused out loud. “Can’t argue with that”
After a moment, when the lord was able to stifle his laughter long enough, he gave Eivor a hard stare, a stark opposite of the jovial man splitting his sides with laughter a moment ago. “Well what are we going to do with ya know then, eh?” He asked to nobody in particular, stroking the his stubbled chin with one hand and lightly bouncing the coins stacked in his other “I’ll tell ya what, Eivor, was it? I’ll give you two choices. The first, I’ll give ya these coins here you were in such a hurry to run off with.”
Eivor quickly reached for the coins, it didn’t matter what the second option was, those were gold Tar Valon marks! More money than she had ever seen in one place before. It wouldn't be the lifelong retirement she planned, but she could likely live years on that.
Years of eating stale bread and only slightly better than tattered clothes, she thought to herself. Still, it would be a vast upgrade to the life she had now. She hesitated for a moment, just as Lord Vrisking snapped his hand back, wagging the finger of his other hand at her.
“OR...” He continued, “You ride with me back to my estate, I have a wife and a boy about your age, and plenty of servants around keeping the house up. My cook can always use another pair of hands, especially small ones like yours, good for getting in and scrubbing he glassware.”
He chuckled to himself, “Just don’t give her any backtalk, or you’ll wish my guards did away with ya, promise ya that!”
Kneeling down so his face was at the same level as Eivor’s, he continued, “You’ll have your own bed, a roof over your head, a full belly, and the pay is decent enough.” He looked down at the ground by Eivor’s feet, her diary had fallen out during her tumble. He picked it up, flipping through the pages dismissively, then added “Decent enough to afford a new one of these” He went to toss the book aside, and Eivor caught his wrist, surprisingly strong for a girl of ten.
“No!” She snatched the diary from his hand. “This I keep, my parents, they...they...”
A look of understanding, and that pleasant, almost fatherly look return to his face, “So be it, I assume that means your coming then, eh?”
Eivor thought for a moment, then was startled by a twitch from the lords wrist she was still holding. She was holding it too tightly, it seemed, because when she let go she could see the white outlines of bloodless skin where her hand grasped returning to its normal shade of copper. Tears began to well up in her eyes. This man was offering her a home. It wouldn't be like before, she would be a servant, not a daughter, but something about the way he showed that almost fatherly smile made Eivor think that maybe this would be the next best thing. Nodding, she placed her hand into the outstretched palm of Lord Vrisking, and together they got into the carriage.
Ely edit 10 Aug 2021:
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x
Total: 4 qps
*****************************************
Sullen eyes peer cautiously from under the hood of a tattered cloak. Eivor Trave holds a worn diary close to herself, open to a half filled page and writing feverishly with a nub of coal ground down to a fine point. She stops for a moment to wipe her brow, [i]light it’s hot today,[/i] she thought as she lowers her hand and sighs when she realizes they are coated in coal dust and her brown now surely is as well. She grimaces as she feel her stomach turn in the shallow cavity of her abdomen. Despite being mid summer, food was scarce in Lugard. She occasionally heard the farmers passing by speak of “strange times” with the crops this year, the result of numerous pests and disease decimating the fields. Even the Inns in the city that would occasionally throw out scraps from the previous evening used what little there was to feed the cats and horses. Eivor’s stomach twisted again, reminding her of her present situation.
Five years ago, during a dispute between two lesser lords of Murandy, the city was overrun and both of her parents were killed. Since then, she has been surviving on the streets through whatever means necessary.
[i]Food[/i], Eivor thought, [i]food first, then shelter for the night[/i].
She looked up into the dimming sky, dark clouds rolling in over the horizon. A storm was coming, she definitely had to find a roof tonight.
Slowly, and a bit painfully from sitting too long, Eivor stood up. She took a look down both directions of the back ally, and picked the one that entered the street less busy. It wouldn’t do to have some guard or pompous do-good citizen catch what she was about to do. Despite the hard times, the Murandian king had only increased penalties in the city for theft and disorder. The first infraction would land you in a cell, food there was worse than anything you could find lying on the ground on the streets, and besides, Eivor had already used up her 1st infraction. The 2nd and 3rd offenses led to the dismemberment of one’s hands, the dominant one taken the latter of the two. Eivor looked at her own hand and shuddered.
[i]No[/i], she thought to herself, [i]it wouldnt do to get caught again…[/i]
The ally opened up into a wide street. Signs of heavy traffic littered the ground but as people started making their ways to their homes for dinner and to wait out the storm, this one was nearly empty.
Eivor began walking down one side of the street, fully aware of the comedic quality of her confident strut of a person who knows exactly where they are going combined with the image of a street urchin, who’s tattered cloths barely concealed a gaunt frame underneath.
In about an hours time, Eivor stopped roaming to sit back in a small side alley next to a rough, weather stained inn. The sign out front was clearly legible though, “The Domani Wench’s Kiss” it read. Inside, Eivor could hear the innkeeper getting tables ready for what was surely to be another raucous evening. Eivor could imagine men and women gathered in there, laughing, drinking, fighting… and she hated them for it. [i]None of them knew what it was like wondering where their next meal was going to come from. None of them knew what it was like spending nights soaked to the bone, sleeping in the rain after being caught, beaten, and bloodied for laying down on the wrong person porch. None of them knew….[/i]
Just then the side door of the inn swung open. A skinny kitchen servant holding a stained wooden bowl poked his head out and peered into the growing shadows. Eivor quickly pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath and trying o remain perfectly still. The servant did not see her or simply paid her no mind, one look up at the sky and the growing thunderclouds and he quickly tossed the contents of the bowl out into cobblestone alleyway, and ducked back into the inn, door slamming behind him.
Eivor cautiously made her way towards the refuse, in the twilight she could make out the rough outlines of plump, but pitted turnips. The parts that remained would be in such a state that even the “fine and respectable” frequenters of the Wench’s Kiss wouldn’t eat them, and no amount of preparation could mask the foul and putrid smell emanated from their brown, shriveled surface.
Just as Eivor reached out to grab the closest one, a low growl filled the air around her. Panicked, she quickly drew her hand back and looked around. Three sets of glowing eyes emerged from the broken wooden crates piled up near the side door of the inn. As they got nearer, Eivor saw that the eyes were attached to three mangy, snarling dogs, spittle flowing freely from their tooth filled snarls.
Slowly, Eivor backed away. In the streets you didn’t last long taking chances just because you were desperate, and desperate as she was, she didn't stand a chance against three hungry dogs, malnourished as they were.
She didn’t turn her back on them until she was back into the dimly lit street, and only then once she heard their ravenous gorging on a meal that wouldn’t be fit for a trolloc, let alone a human or dogs. Sighing she passed by the front windows of the inn, a few patrons had already started coming in, sitting at the simple tables with crusty bread and steaming bowls of stew in front of them. Eivor licked her lips and stared.
She could try and sneak into the kitchen and grab whatever was handy, but it seemed to risky. Inn kitchens were always bustling places, she would almost certainly get caught, and she was rather fond of keeping both of her hands.
The innkeeper himself would take one look at her and refuse to serve her so much as a glass of water without seeing copper up front. Plus she had pulled the ol’ Dine and Dash too many times now, and every innkeeper from here to the palace knew her face and name, and not in a good way.
Eivor reached into her pockets. The piece of coal she had been writing with earlier finally was at the end of its life, and was nothing more than a thick black powder covering everything in there. Not her diary though, that was special, that was kept in a secret pocket she had sewn into the inseam of her breeches. Beside the coal dust, which she blew into the air from her palm face up, she had a rusty needle with a small length of thread attached to it, a small wooden figuring of what she thought might have been a cat (the artist was a young boy who gave it to her in exchange for half a loaf of bread she snagged from the baker one day), a water skin with a hole in the bottom, and a single copper penny.
[i]Won’t get very far with that[/i], Eivor realized.
Just as her stomach groaned at her for what seemed like the hundredth time today, the sound of hooves and the rolling of plated carriage wheels on stone caught here ear from the next street over. Running through another small alley that reeked of human waste, she peered around the corner of a tailor shop. This street was larger than the other, and better lit which was unfortunate for anyone trying their luck at pickpocketing unwary travelers here.
Rolling down the street was one of the most ornate carriages Eivor had ever seen. Black as the night, but polished so heavily that it seemed to glow with an inner light, the sides of the carriage were decorated with fine silver and gold scroll work. The hubs of the wheels shone a brilliant silver and even the horses wore bridles of fine leather worked with silver and gold chain. Guards marched their horse in rows straddling the carriage, three on each side. The curtains were drawn across the windows of the carriage so Eivor could not see what Lord or Lady it was that owned such an extravagant vehicle.
Eivor chuckled quietly to herself when she realized that even if she was close enough to spit in the Lord or Lady’s face, she still wouldn’t be able to put a name to them. Light, they could tell her they were the bloody King of Murandy or Queen of Andor herself and she wouldn’t know the difference.
What really caught her attention however, was the chest hanging off the back of the carriage. Surely whoever rode in such finery must carry gold, jewels, silks, anything of which could set her up for her entire life, and then some! It would’nt even be worth the thought if Eivor hadn’t noticed that the carriage guards, clearly uncomfortable with passing through this part of the city, their heads darting wildly looking from side to side, were riding too far front, expecting danger to come from any of the upcoming alley’s.
Eivor did not like stealing. Most of what she took were things that others had already thrown out themselves, and didn’t really count as thievery in her mind, despite what the law said. This though…once more and she could live comfortably, never having to steal again. Besides, the owner of this carriage obviously could afford a small loss such as this. Maybe she could even help some of the other urchins she knew. Most were cruel, nasty little children, but a few she had grown fond of, and even considered friends.
Just then, as if summoned from her very thoughts, on of the very children she was thinking of darted into the street closely in from of one of the mounted guards. The child was one of the good ones, [i]Elsa? Elysia?[/i] She couldn’t remember, her survival instincts were kicking in. [i]Now, now is the time![/i] Eivor though to herself.
While the guards were busy scolding the child the nearly trampled to death, Eivor quickly but quietly made her way toward the back of the carriage. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the needle she saw earlier. The chest was locked, of course, but Eivor had found she had a knack for picking locks, discovered only during the most extreme of needful situations of course. Looking around once more, she saw nobody, but heard the guards up front finishing up explaining to the young girl, [i]Elise[/i], Eivor suddenly remembered, how she should run off now before they call the city guard and report her for impeding traffic.
[i]Light[/i], Eivor thought. [i]Better move quick, if they are so pompous to threated a child with punishment when they clearly weren't watching where they were going, what would they do to a thief they caught red handed?[/i]
Quickly Eivor returned her attention to the lock and slid the needle delicately into the keyhole. She felt around for the tumblers inside, she could almost see them, and the metal they were made of. Deftly running through the moving arms of the lock, she heard a silently [i]click[/i] as the last tumbler fell into its appropriate place, followed by a guard speaking hesitantly through the darkness, “Hey, is someone back there? What do you think you’re doing?”
Panic set in, Eivor quickly pulled the lock off the chest, threw the lid open and reached in. Her fingers slid through cold, smooth, metal coins. With not a moment to spare she closed her hand around as many as she could and drew them out, loose coins falling through her fingers and clinging on the hard stone street. The sounds drew the attention of the remaining guards, instantly forgetting the verbal abuse they were dishing out to the small girl they almost ran over.
The sounds of hooves rang through the street as the guards whirled their mounts toward her, followed by the dry hiss of swords quickly leaving their scabbards, but Eivor was already on the move. Sprinting into the nearest alley, she was stopped suddenly as her face planted firmly against the riveted leather cuirass of a guard, sending her sprawling back towards the pavement. Reaching out to break her fall, the coins remaining in her hand spilled out over the street as she planted her palm firmly behind her, scraping it against the small pebbles littering the surface of the street carried but the days travelers.
[i]You light blinded fool[/i], Eivor’s thoughts screamed to herself. [i]You didn’t think a mark like that might have had more guards around than the obvious six in plain sight?[/i] Realization dawned on her as she saw at least a dozen more guards emerge from the other alleys around the street. They were shadowing the carriage, watching for any who might see the carriage as an easy mark.
Desperately, Eivor watched the last of the rolling coins that fell from her hand roll towards the carriage, and a fine leather boot step on it, halting its movement dead in its place, the side of the coin still shining brightly in the dull glow of the street lamps. On the side of the coin was carved a curved tear drop, the flame of Tar Valon.
Her eyes followed the boot up to velvet breeches, snug to form and being held up by a belt with a gold and silver buckle showing a symbol of a Wolf’s head. Across the person’s mid section they worse a vest inlaid with fine embroidery, lace spilling out of both the sleeves and neckline. A feathered cap sat atop the head of a man with a hardened face, a single scar running across his cheek, marring what would otherwise be seen as a pleasant expression. A small smile crept up one corner of his mouth, as he looked down at the would-be thief.
“Well, well, what do we have here, eh?” The lord spoke as he reached down to grab the coin his boot landed on. He tossed the coin up in the air and snatched with his other hand, tucking it into his belt pouch with one fluid motion.
“My Lord, you needn’t concern yourself with this filth. Please return to the carriage and we will dispose of this...” the guard speaking crinkled his nose at Eivor, as if smelling something foul beyond the dirt of the street on her “...this filth.”
“Oh needn’t I?” the Lord responded with a touch of irritation in his voice. “You are apparently the employer and I the employed now, is it? Do not assume to tell me where I can and cannot go, guardsman. I fought in the Aiel war when you were nothing more than a dirty thought in you Da’s head when he laid his eyes across the flesh of your goat-kissing mother. One street urchin is not going to be the end of me”
“Two, my lord.” another guard muttered. “There were two, they must be working together, they could be a whole lot of them ready to descend upon us at any moment!”
The lord rolled his eyes toward the second guard, staring at him flatly until he shrank back, muttering to himself and scanning the surrounding alleyways as if an ambush could come at any moment. The Lord turned his attention back toward Eivor.
“Now then, where were we? Ah yes, my name, and the name of the person who’s coins you were so hastily trying to relief him of, is Lord Vrisking do Anatia a’Seidher. And who is the urchin that lays here so dangerous apparently to warrant such of my guards mirth?”
Eivor worked her mouth silently, terrified that these were the last few moments of her life. As she worked up the courage to speak, Lord Vrisking began walking around her, gathering up the coins scattered across the street. He paused after picking up each one, looking at her expectantly. Finally Eivor found the words.
“E..E...Eivor, my lord. Eivor Trave. I...I’m sorry I stole from you, it’s just that...I was hungry and I...I throw myself at your mercy!” Eivor shouted the last bit, perhaps hoping that some form of help would hear her and come to her aide, but she knew it would not.
“Hungry, was it?” Lord Vrisking asked, arching an eyebrow. “If it was food you needed child, I have plenty, and would have offered it freely. Why rob me for want of something I surely have plenty of” Lord Vrisking gave his round belly a pat, chuckling to himself.
Eivor searched the stones in front of her, thinking of what to say next. [i]He certainly is not like any lord I’ve heard of before[/i], Eivor thought. [i]Maybe there is a way out of this yet.[/i]
Looking up at the Lord, which received a disapproving hiss fro the nearest guard, Eivor responded as eloquently as she could. “My Lord, I beg your pardon, but risks are not something to be taken easily on the streets of Lugard. It was a risk to rob your carriage, yes, but it may have been riskier to ask for alms or food”
Lord Vrisking looked at Eivor inquisitively, his smile broadening into a near grin now. “Go on, child, I’ll hear your whole point before I pass judgment”
“Robbing you assured nearly unlimited gain for me, with the risk being mitigated by my timing, stealth, and guile.” Eivor continued “However, to ask would not only gain me only what mercy you were willing to provide at the moment, but the risk too of being ignored or even beaten for insolence also cannot be mitigated by my own ability and only by your will. Therefore, it was logical to me that the risk of being caught was worth a lifetime of full bellies vs yet another day of meager handouts where the sun would rise on a day I’m no better off then I am today”
Lord Vrisking’s eyes widened, and he stood there for a long moment, staring at Eivor. She slowly got to her feet, despite the growls of the guards around her, and began shuffling her feet nervously. Finally the lord burst out laughing, much to the shock of the guards around him, who looked at each other with puzzled looks.
“Can’t argue with that I suppose,” Lord Vrisking mused out loud. “Can’t argue with that”
After a moment, when the lord was able to stifle his laughter long enough, he gave Eivor a hard stare, a stark opposite of the jovial man splitting his sides with laughter a moment ago. “Well what are we going to do with ya know then, eh?” He asked to nobody in particular, stroking the his stubbled chin with one hand and lightly bouncing the coins stacked in his other “I’ll tell ya what, Eivor, was it? I’ll give you two choices. The first, I’ll give ya these coins here you were in such a hurry to run off with.”
Eivor quickly reached for the coins, [i]it didn’t matter what the second option was, those were gold Tar Valon marks![/i] More money than she had ever seen in one place before. It wouldn't be the lifelong retirement she planned, but she could likely live years on that.
[i]Years of eating stale bread and only slightly better than tattered clothes,[/i] she thought to herself. Still, it would be a vast upgrade to the life she had now. She hesitated for a moment, just as Lord Vrisking snapped his hand back, wagging the finger of his other hand at her.
“OR...” He continued, “You ride with me back to my estate, I have a wife and a boy about your age, and plenty of servants around keeping the house up. My cook can always use another pair of hands, especially small ones like yours, good for getting in and scrubbing he glassware.”
He chuckled to himself, “Just don’t give her any backtalk, or you’ll wish my guards did away with ya, promise ya that!”
Kneeling down so his face was at the same level as Eivor’s, he continued, “You’ll have your own bed, a roof over your head, a full belly, and the pay is decent enough.” He looked down at the ground by Eivor’s feet, her diary had fallen out during her tumble. He picked it up, flipping through the pages dismissively, then added “Decent enough to afford a new one of these” He went to toss the book aside, and Eivor caught his wrist, surprisingly strong for a girl of ten.
“No!” She snatched the diary from his hand. “This I keep, my parents, they...they...”
A look of understanding, and that pleasant, almost fatherly look return to his face, “So be it, I assume that means your coming then, eh?”
Eivor thought for a moment, then was startled by a twitch from the lords wrist she was still holding. She was holding it too tightly, it seemed, because when she let go she could see the white outlines of bloodless skin where her hand grasped returning to its normal shade of copper. Tears began to well up in her eyes. This man was offering her a home. It wouldn't be like before, she would be a servant, not a daughter, but something about the way he showed that almost fatherly smile made Eivor think that maybe this would be the next best thing. Nodding, she placed her hand into the outstretched palm of Lord Vrisking, and together they got into the carriage.