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Marcus Aegon

“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus was taken aback at Tholdrove's reaction. It was quite literally the first time in the young b*****d's life that a noble had gone out on a limb to help him. "Thank you, my Lord." Another first; Marcus used the honorific in complete sincerity. Marcus figured to do a lot of free work for Tholdrove when this current business ended. He had to repay this debt somehow.

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cнαρтεя 3: gσүяση

▇▇▇▇▇The carriage took them swiftly up to the estate of Lord Goyron. It was more of a castle, really. At four stories tall, with some towers jutting even higher, it was quite sizable, but could not be fully appreciated in the dark of the evening. Torches warmed white stone walls here and there, and it actually looked quite beautiful and inviting, Sterling could not notice. She was too angry. Too afraid.
▇▇▇▇▇Tholdrove got off with them, promised again to speak to Lord Goyron, and entrusted their care to a head servant. There were no objections from the servants whatsoever. If any of them recognized Marcus, then nobody mentioned it. They were led, at length, to a two-bedroom apartment within the castle. They had to pass through three hallways, and go up a set of stairs, and Sterling didn’t say a word the whole way there. She just hugged her pack, which she had retrieved from Marcus at the earliest convenience, They were let in, the door closed, and Sterling waited a moment as she stood stiffly, glaring at Marcus. The servant’s footsteps faded into the distance.
▇▇▇▇▇“You’re an idiot,” she said, deciding on the blunt approach. “I barely managed to save your life and you so quickly want to throw it out again. Don’t work with Tholdrove again. Don’t even talk to him! He’s dangerous. He’s amoral. We don’t know if anything he said tonight is true! Did it ever occur to you that HE might have been the one to poison the bolt?! And on you went, rambling about how the person to have done it would have money, connections, motive.”
▇▇▇▇▇She turned away in frustration, covering her face with a hand.


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{(O.O.C.: I mean, not that you're wrong. You're just a little oblivious. )}

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Marcus Aegon

“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus bore Sterling's vehement anger with a deadpan expression. "Well, not like I had much choice, is it, since he knows who I am. I know the man too. I know he's not to be trusted, there's a reason for this. But as long as he believes that I feel indebted to him, he won't turn me in. He'll try to squeeze that for all it's worth, and then some. But he won't get me killed. He knows my reputation, he knows I'm more useful whole and free than I am as a head on a pike or in a dungeon. He won't try to cross me until my stated debt is settled. Once he's collected all he can from me, that's when the fat whoreson will bring the axe down, but by then, I intend to have figured all of this out, dealt with the criminals, and seen to it that it achieves a high enough place on the Crown's priority list that the blackmail material I just gave him will be irrelevant. He's also a coward, and he won't try anything as direct as trying to have me killed. I know what I'm doing." What does she take me for? he thought. Does she think I'm an idiot or an amatuer?

Marcus knew that it was a dangerous game, but he was in a dangerous profession. He probably wasn't going to work for Tholdrove again; given what he knew, if Tholdrove had anything to do with any of this, Marcus would have to see him dead before this was over.

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▇▇▇▇▇Sterling wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to stop shaking. Tholdrove was one of the few people who scared her--who really scared her. She took a breath.
▇▇▇▇▇“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Just don’t underestimate him. He finds you useful, certainly, but he has other ‘investments’ to think about as well…”
▇▇▇▇▇She quieted and looked at the floor somberly. It just didn’t all feel right. Tholdrove had been too generous, and generosity wasn’t his usual color. What had she been thinking? That this was all going to go just fine?
▇▇▇▇▇“I should have never brought you here,” she said, looking back up to Marcus. “I’m the idiot. It’s a dangerous game, and I never should have gotten you involved.”

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{(O.O.C.: )}▇▇▇▇

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⋙Ӎɑʀϲυϛ Ȧəɠoɳ⋘

“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus looked at Sterling, surprised to see the tears in her eyes. When she said she never should have gotten him involved, he said, "Bullshit. If you need an ally for a dangerous game, I'm a good one to have. You did make a fairly critical mistake though, in not telling me what you know. You know more about this than you've let on. I know that not showing your hand is important, but as you said, this is a dangerous game and I need to know the rules as well as you do if I'm to play effectively. I'm a great fighter, but political machinations aren't my forte, and I need you to explain to me what's going on."

Marcus pulled a rope from his pack, and gauged the distance from the window to the courtyard. It wouldn't go all the way down, but with the knotting he used to secure it, it would only be around a six foot drop. "In case we need a quick exit." he explained.

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▇▇▇▇▇Sterling nodded after Marcus spoke. He was right. He had to have a larger understanding of what was going on. But how much could she tell him? How much would he even believe? But it wasn’t as though she could compromise his security anymore. He already had the attention of Lord Tholdrove, and there were only a handful of people that it would be worse to anger. She took a breath.
▇▇▇▇▇“Tholdrove is richer than the king,” she said. “Tholdrove controls about 45% of the holdings in the empire. The king controls only 16%, with most of the rest of that percentage belonging to Tholdrove’s close friends. He also lends moneys. Most of the nobles are indebted to him. He could probably topple the kingdom if he wanted to, but where he wins in commerce, he fails in popularity. He also lacks the support of a martial force. That’s why his dealings with Gouar are so concerning. They’re giving him lots of iron. The king is concerned, so he’s buying most of it, but that can’t last forever. He’s just making Tholdrove richer and snowballing the problem into something bigger down the line.”
▇▇▇▇▇She paused to drop her pack and settle into a posh chair.
▇▇▇▇▇“Goyron is only middle man for Tholdrove. Farling is the only city with good roads into the Northern Firth. I have no doubt that Tholdrove was behind House Certee’s quiet loss of power. My guess would be blackmail. He put Goyron in instead to give him a hand into the Firth without having his name on it. But the Northern Gate is shut. So I can only surmise that that hand is misbehaving. I wouldn’t want to be Goyron right now.”
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{(O.O.C.: )}▇▇▇▇

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⋙Ӎɑʀϲυϛ Ȧəɠoɳ⋘

“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus let out a low whistle when Sterling finished. "That explains a lot. What we could do, if this doesn't work out, is hunt down this hand, cut it off, and make sure that it talks to us before we kill it. We could get evidence about what's going on, maybe go to the king, stop the war before it starts."

Marcus was back in his element, now that he knew what was going on, he could plan for it. He began sharpening his sword. Then he saw a shadow under the door. He signaled to Sterling to say nothing, crossed the room, at an angle that would make it impossible to be seen. Glancing at Sterling, he flung open the door and seized the man on the other side by the throat. Marcus hauled the eavesdropper in, then closed the door. "Who are you?" he demanded, his dagger appearing ominously in his hand, "And why were you listening to our conversation?"

Then Marcus started, seeing, for the first time, that the man he'd just accosted was actually Goyron's son. "Sorry about the threat. But do please tell me, why you're listening in."

"I wanted to find out what you were up to. For my father." the kid replied.

Marcus smiled sadly. Killing the little idiot would be easy. But after all this kid had suffered, Marcus didn't want to hurt him any more. The cold bounty hunter, beneath the callouses, was not heartless, and whatever he said, he did sort of blame himself for this boy's fever castration. But he couldn't allow the boy to ruin their plan.

"While I won't stop you from telling him, I'd rather you didn't. We've got some leads as to where the poison, the crossbow, and the bodkin bolt came from. Remember how you and I both thought at the time that it was odd that a common outlaw had a heavy crossbow, armor-piercing bodkin bolts and garic oil poison? We have a chance of finding out who did this to you. And killing them. But that chance will disappear if you tell your father what's happened."

Marcus watched the thoughts work through the young eunuch lord's head. He wanted payback. He wanted justice for what had happened to his manhood. "Fine. I'll tell my father I overheard Sterling and her bodyguard talking about a routine matter of travel, how to provision themselves, maybe. But Marcus," the young lord said, "When you find whoever did this to me," he thought about it, "Make it hurt."

Marcus nodded grimly, with steel in his eyes. "You have my word."




OOC: Changed it.

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▇▇▇▇▇Sterling stiffened and sat up straight, but said nothing as Marcus glided to the door on silent feet. This was his element, not all of the political drama and intrigue. He fit into it well. A stranger was unceremoniously caught and thrown into the room, at knifepoint in an instant. Sterling stayed where she was, even relaxing a bit as Marcus seemed to recognise the man. It only took a moment for her to fit the pieces together.
▇▇▇▇▇“Tarrant Goyron, if I’m not mistaken!” she said in surprise. “What a pleasure to meet you at last!”
▇▇▇▇▇She rose and gave an elegant, practiced gesture, somewhere between a bow and a courtesy. She wasn’t wearing a dress, but it seemed to suit her anyhow. She extended her hand for a kiss. She wouldn’t have done this for Marcus, but Tarrant would know what to do with it.
▇▇▇▇▇“I’m Sterling,” she said, “Though it seems my reputation precedes me. How is your health? And tell me, how long has your father known we were here?”

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{(O.O.C.: Woo! Good to get the role-play going again!)}▇▇▇▇

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⋙Ӎɑʀϲυϛ Ȧəɠoɳ⋘

“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus looked upon Tarrant kissing Sterling's hand. She was a noble, no doubt about it anymore. “My health is fine. My father was told you were coming by someone whose face I didn't see. He was a tall and slim man. But he wore cloak like Marcus's, though his was white.”

Marcus swore. Who could that have been? Whoever it was, that white cloak is gonna be red when I find them. Marcus thought grimly. But how could such a man have followed us without being spotted? White cloaks aren't exactly stealthy. Then it hit him.

Marcus looked at Sterling. "No sense in delaying any longer. We need to talk to Goyron and Tholdrove, see what we can find out. We were followed by an arcanist."
Marcus knew this was a risk, but if the Arcanists were involved, this could be more dangerous than they thought.

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▇▇▇▇▇Sterling tilted her head to the side and looked at Marcus as though thinking
▇▇▇▇▇“Arcanists are few and far between, and I’ve never met one that does a noble’s bidding. A white cloak is a white cloak. It doesn’t prove anything,” she said, “And actually, I do see the sense in waiting. Goyron was kind enough to send us his own son instead of an assassin, so he’s either already under Thodrove’s thumb, or he’s waiting for a more opportune moment. Or he has another purpose. At any rate, it’s not going to happen tonight, Marcus; you can put away your knife. Even troublesome Lords must sleep.”
▇▇▇▇▇She turned back to Tarrant and smiled cordially.
▇▇▇▇▇“It’s been a pleasure Master Goyron, but if you’ll forgive me, I think I’d like to retire. We’re quite weary from our travels. But I should greatly delight in your company sometime soon.”
▇▇▇▇▇She said, and bowed again. After Marcus shut the door, She picked up her bag and began walking to her room in the suite. But she paused a moment, and turned around halfway.
▇▇▇▇▇“Don’t mention the Arcanist to anyone,” she said. “The trouble with Arcanists is that you’re never entirely sure who is one. And if there is one here, it’s better that he doesn’t know that we’re aware of his presence.”
▇▇▇▇▇And with that, she entered her room and closed the door.
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▇▇▇▇▇The next morning, they were summoned by a servant at the door. The servant was a tall man with a crooked nose that it seemed impossible for him not to look down. With the most formal of aires, which was almost difficult for even Sterling to decipher, due to his nasal tone, he informed them that Lord Tholdrove had invited them to breakfast. Sterling insisted they go. Soon, the two were clean, dressed, and presentable, and they set off to meet with the Lords of the Court. They were escorted to a breakfast banquet hall which was filled with light, food, servants, and posh decoration. The floors were white marble and everything seemed to be detailed with gold. Sterling was led to a seat near Tholdrove. The empty seat beside her said that apparently Marcus was to follow. At the head of the table was the devil himself, Lord Goyron.
▇▇▇▇▇“A most excellent morning to you, most gracious Lord Goyron,” she said, and bowed delicately.
▇▇▇▇▇This captured the Lord’s attention, and he looked up with a greasy smile.
▇▇▇▇▇“Miss Sterling,” he said dryly.
▇▇▇▇▇“It was so good of you to take me in on such short notice. I would not have dared, had Lord Tholdrove not spoken of the wonders of your legendary hospitality,” she said.
▇▇▇▇▇However, Lord Goyron was no longer looking at her. His eyes had focused on something just beyond her, and Sterling could guess who. She could feel the hackles rising. Lord Goyron went pale, and she wondered if Marcus had as well, but she could not bring herself to look.
▇▇▇▇▇“Sterling!” boomed Tholdrove with unnecessary volume. “I am so delighted that you accepted my invitation. I was afraid that you would be too exhausted after your journey.”
▇▇▇▇▇He feigned a jowly frown.
▇▇▇▇▇“The promise of sleep is not enough to persuade me from the pleasure of your company, Lord Tholdrove, ” she said with a smile.
▇▇▇▇▇Lord Goyron was still staring at Marcus the way that an angry dog stares at a cat. Sterling took a seat at the table, and turned to smile at Marcus to signal that he should do the same. Lord Goyron finally burst. He had been growing slowly redder as time went on and was finally the color of an angry pimple. He turned to Tholdrove.
▇▇▇▇▇“Tholdrove, this is too much!” he hissed through clenched teeth. “First, you invite them into my house, and now you expect me to dine at the same table as this dog?! I thought--”
▇▇▇▇▇“Shutup, Gerald,” growled Tholdrove.
▇▇▇▇▇The room went quiet as even the clatter of servants ground to a halt. Tholdrove’s voice was grindingly deep and unbelievably sharp for a creature with so many rounded edges. Goyron shut up. Tholdrove turned to Sterling and smiled.
▇▇▇▇▇“Do forgive him, Lady Sterling, and humble Marcus,” said Tholdrove, “It’s all of these birthday preparations, they’re setting him on edge.”
▇▇▇▇▇Goyron abruptly threw back his chair and strode away.
▇▇▇▇▇So it is true, she thought, Tholdrove is controlling Goyron.

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{(O.O.C.: Ok!)}▇▇▇▇

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⋙Ӎɑʀϲυϛ Ȧəɠoɳ⋘

“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus was shocked that Tholdrove had managed to shut Goyron up. Marcus had wanted to be able to do that more times than he could count. All the same, some concession to noble pride was necessary to avoid being attacked later. "Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace, and yours, my Lord, Tholdrove." Marcus had no intention of eating. Or drinking. He was in fact well aware that every morsel on his plate had probably been poisoned the moment Goyron knew that they were going to him. Unfortunately, he was hungry, and that suckling pig smelled really good.

But he had a job to do. "So, preparations for Goyron's name-day celebration are not going as planned, then, Tholdrove? Or is he too modest to want a celebration?"

Tholdrove gave a disgusting belly laugh, then dug into the pig, then, mouth still full of honeyed pork, glanced at Marcus and said, "Oh, no, everything is going perfectly according to plan. It's just that the old lout doesn't always know what he wants." Then, noticing Marcus wasn't eating, he said, "Eat, boy. Get some meat on your bones."

Marcus waited for a moment, scanning Tholdrove's face for symptoms of poisoning by the toxins common to this region, he concluded that the meat was safe to consume, though he wouldn't touch anything served only to him.

He wolfed into the pig. Then, once he'd swallowed, he looked at Tholdrove, took a deep breath, and calculated in his head the risk-taken-to-benefit-gained likely to be brought on by his next words. He needed to know more about Sterling. And Tholdrove seemed pretty open about other people's secrets. Not to mention, Sterling would be able to find out how much this gentle-born mammoth knew about her.

"So, my Lord, how do you and Sterling know each other?"

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▇▇▇▇▇Sterling served herself a sausage, some fresh fruit and a slice of quiche, and began to delicately eat these, one small bite at a time. She glanced at Marcus as he asked a question about her. Tholdrove looked at Marcus in surprise.
▇▇▇▇▇“What? Hasn’t she told you?” asked Tholdrove, and then he looked at the lady. “Sterling,” he chided.
▇▇▇▇▇Sterling apparently opted to ignore the entire conversation, and kept on staring straight ahead and eating her quiche. Tholdrove chuckled.
▇▇▇▇▇“You wound me, Sterling. But I suppose we can’t blame her. It’s good to know that my confidentiality is respected,” he said calmly. “Secrets are her trade, after all. Sterling is a kind of courier. She is a peacemaker. A go-between for the rich and powerful. We met because I am rich and powerful. She came to me to offer her services.”
▇▇▇▇▇“Good to know I keep your secrets so that you can sell all of mine for a trifle,” she said bitterly.
▇▇▇▇▇Tholdrove laughed again.
▇▇▇▇▇“Don’t be so dramatic, Sterling. If you don’t trust your body guard, then why do you let him so close to you with a sword?”
▇▇▇▇▇“He’s better with swords than with secrets,” she said with a sidelong glance in Marcus’s direction.
▇▇▇▇▇She almost hoped that he would take offense. She was mad at him for bringing up her business at all. And with Tholdrove no less. Hadn’t she asked for privacy?
▇▇▇▇▇“Oh come now,” said Tholdrove, “You mustn’t go snatching up my servants and speaking then ill of them. Marcus is excellent at keeping a secret. Aren’t you Marcus?”
▇▇▇▇▇He grinned in a dirty way and looked directly at Sterling. She stopped eating and glared back. The mood darkened.
▇▇▇▇▇“What else do we know about Sterling,” he droned. “She’s been involved with the king… or she’s blackmailing him, like she does everyone else… she’s killed at least two nobles… she’s older than she looks… and she likes to stick her nose in everyone’s business.”
▇▇▇▇▇Sterling laughed and then dabbed her face with a napkin.
▇▇▇▇▇“For a moment, I thought I was being threatened. But now I see it was a joke. Thank you for breakfast, Tholdrove, it was delightful.”
▇▇▇▇▇With that, she rose and started to leave, gesturing for Marcus to come with her.
▇▇▇▇▇“You wouldn’t miss the ball, would you, Sterling?” asked Tholdrove suddenly.
▇▇▇▇▇She paused where she stood and did not turn around. She thought about it for a moment.
▇▇▇▇▇“And if I did?” she said.
▇▇▇▇▇“If you did, it would be most regrettable,” he said weightily.
▇▇▇▇▇“It sounds like fun. I will come.” she said, and then left.

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{(O.O.C.: ARE YOU HAPPY NOW MR GOTTA KNOW EVERYTHING!? Actually, as it turns out, Tholdrove doesn’t know all that much about Sterling. Unfortunately that makes him nervous...)}▇▇▇▇

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⋙Ӎɑʀϲυϛ Ȧəɠoɳ⋘

“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus stood as Sterling did. It was good to know a little more about her, though his primary objective was to see how much their enemy knew of her. Which, as it turned out, was not much. Marcus almost wished he could have learned more, but was glad he hadn't, since that would mean that Tholdrove knew more.

When they arrived back at the room, Marcus looked at Sterling, and held up his hands, palms out, to diffuse the situation. "I know you're fairly pissed off. But I needed to know how much he knew of you. Apparently, not much, but now we know that he isn't as well informed on you as we thought. And, sorry, yes, I was also curious about the woman I'm working for. It looks like that curiosity will go unsatisfied for a while longer." Marcus hoped she'd understand.

"But for now, unless we're planning on not attending the ball, I need to get some decent clothing."



OoC: Not particularly. I didn't get much info out of that. And I get the feeling when Tholdrove gets nervous, murders are attempted.

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▇▇▇▇▇“No,” she said softly. “I’m not angry.
▇▇▇▇▇She looked absently out the window. There was no time for anger now. The game was on, and she had to be level-headed.
▇▇▇▇▇“You got him to show his cards, and that was good. Honestly I’m both relieved and afraid that he knows so little. But why would he do that? Why would he give away his only advantage? ...I don’t know what’s waiting for us at that ball, but I don’t think it’s good. It has a sense of finality to it, the way Tholdrove spoke of it, don’t you think? I think he’s going to try to kill me. Or corner me somehow.”
▇▇▇▇▇She turned around and looked him in the eye, her silver eyes full of steel.
▇▇▇▇▇“We need a plan,” she said. “We could fail to attend, but that’s no guarantee that Tholdrove won’t just send an assassin after me. He probably has one waiting at the gate on the off chance that you or I decide to leave. However, I have my own reasons for wanting to attend, Tholdrove be damned. My fear is that I might just have to deal with this b*****d before he deals with me. I need to ask a favor of you.”
▇▇▇▇▇She retrieved her pack and pulled out a piece of paper and two coins, a gold coin, and a silver coin. Sterling took the paper to the writing desk and wrote something on it, blew on the ink to help it dry, and then handed it to Marcus along with the coins. The gold coin was a crown, but the silver coin didn’t look like proper currency at all. It had strange writing around the rim and the image of a woman with long billowing hair in the middle. On the back, there was a creature that looked like a feathered lion.
▇▇▇▇▇“Go and find the headmaster of the servants and give this to him. He doesn’t have much power here, but he is a friend. Ask him to get the message to Razor. The crown is for his trouble.”
▇▇▇▇▇She showed him what she had written before folding it and setting it in his hand. They were strange geometric shapes, all boxes and dots.
▇▇▇▇▇“It’s a tactical code. Razor will know it. I’ll worry about finding us proper attire. Be safe.”
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{(O.O.C.: A crown is equivalent to 100 eagles. And also, your feeling is correct...)}▇▇▇▇

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“Do not mistake the man for the mask he wears.”

Marcus nodded. "I understand. I'll get this to your friend." Marcus left the room, jogging down to the servant's quarters. He handed the crown and the message, along with what he guessed was the mark Sterling was using to make sure Razor knew this was authentic, to the chief servant.

"The Crown is yours, for your trouble. Make sure Razor gets this." he said, simply. He hoped to the gods that this man was worthy of Sterling's trust.

Before he headed back to his and Sterling's quarters, he stopped by the gate, and extended his Sense. There were two men, waiting in the shadows of the gate. Both were armed with swords and dirks. Sterling's hunch had been right. There were assassins by the gate.

Marcus rushed back to Sterling, noting that it seemed that it would rain soon. That could be helpful in a fight, and in that it would destroy their tracks if they had to leave in a hurry. When he arrived in their quarters, he spoke. "Sterling. You were right. Either he or Goyron have assassins waiting for us by every gate. We'll have to fight our way out."

Gaia Forums » GAIA Community » Barton Town (Role Play) » Invitation-only RP

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