RoH: Mansions and Masters

There were servants waiting when the carriage pulled up, and the nearest stepped up to hand Lariza Sundarin down from the carriage. 

"Thank you, Guillame," she said as she stepped onto the cobbled drive.  

"Will you be requiring your luggage, m'lady?" asked another servant. 

"Not this time, Auren." She smiled, and he flushed and ducked his head. The servants were, Remant observed, as pleased and familiar with her as they were with the former Viscount... who had appeared at the door, beside his butler. "I'm here to talk to my father, and say goodbye to you and the rest of the servants. I won't be staying overnight."

Remant didn't know any of the servants' names, but it was obvious he'd have to learn them. That would take time that -- thanks to his deal with king -- he wouldn't have for a while, but fortunately he'd have the former Viscount to keep things in order while he was gone.  

She turned towards the main door and approached, then rushed up and hugged her father.

"My daughter," Dirimant Acklin said. 

"I'm so sorry for letting Valeria throw killers at you. My husband and I need to leave town, and I didn't know what else to do." 

He pulled her close. "The young man has reminded me that I should not have put you in that position. I do apologize."

Remant turned away as she burst into tears. He wasn't, and couldn't be, a part of this. The... footman? ...strolled over to him stopped a few respectful feet and asked, "Will you permit me to speak above my station? I'm sure there will be an announcement, but we're all desperate to hear how it went."

"I'm sure," Remant chuckled. "It's only your livelihoods, after all. So yes, there will be an announcement, but in the meantime you may reassure the entire staff that your jobs are secure. I am now the Viscount Durzen, and I am immediately appointing your former lord as my Steward. Nobody needs depart unless they wish it, and if they do then I will see them off with a letter of recommendation and a gratuity for their work." He hesitated, then added. "I have a rendezvous with Sir Reville scheduled for dawn tomorrow, and then I'll need to make sure everything is arranged fairly quickly -- I have business out of town that may keep me away for several months."

"I see, m'lord," Guillame said smoothly. "That is... most fortunate."

RoH: Moving Forward

"May I come back with you?" asked Lariza. 

They were standing outside the solicitor's office. Remant was reasonably confident that Valeria would file the paperwork for the purchase correctly; he'd informed her that he'd check on it before she received her fee, and she was going to need that fee. "Of course," he said. "I'm sure your father would be glad to see you before you depart."

She nodded. "That," she said, "and I'd like to say goodbye to the estate -- and the servants. I grew up there, after all. So you're essentially leaving everything in place, but taking a few rooms for yourself?"

Remant nodded. "I don't need anything more, but I've been appointed the Viscount Durzen and I can appoint your father as my Steward, since he can't be Viscount himself. That will settle income for the estate, and he can represent me when I'm away -- probably better than I can represent myself."

Lariza laughed. "That is... not a solution that Valeria and I ever considered."

Remant shrugged. "And it frees you up to move to... Foringelt, was it?"

"Yes indeed. Like everywhere else, it's still recovering from the war, but this will leave me with a comfortable fortune and get me out of the way of the politics shaping up here in Capital. I wish I'd known the true state of affairs before now, but... how did you get my father to talk to you? I was told he'd murdered a dozen or so hired mercenaries who tried to pry him out."

"Same way I dealt with Sir Reville," Remant shrugged. "I didn't die."

She laughed again, more gently. "You seem very good at that." She nodded at her carriage. "Shall we?"

RoH: A Simple Purchase of Property

Valeria A'Maris went pale when Remant entered the room. Her secretary had tried to keep him out, and was currently sitting paralyzed at his desk. The stairs hadn't been guarded, which was just as well. He had resisted the urge to kick the door open, and come in quietly instead. 

The tableau before him was revealing. Valeria was behind her desk, and the two seats in front of it were occupied by a Vanil woman in her mid-thirties in a lovely silk dress and a Vanil man in his late forties or early fifties, wearing a very respectable outfit which included a long coat and a dress sword. 

Remant dropped the four swords he'd taken from his attackers beside the man's chair, then leaned down and slapped him across the cheek. "Is the old dueling ground at the edge of the city still open?" he asked. "West, just beyond the walls?"

The man glared up at him. "Yes."

"Good. Then I'll see you there at dawn."

"You have no right--" 

Remant shrugged. "We could pursue this in a court of law if you prefer. The witnesses were very clear with the Watch about who started the fight and who tried to avoid it. And your men were very clear about who sent them."

The knight's face turned red. "What have you done with my men?" 

"Get out of my chair, and go find out."

"Valeria?" asked the woman. "What is happening? You told me..."

Valeria shook her head just as Remant straightened. "And you," he said, "were the only one who knew I'd be visiting that particular temple. So we're going to complete this sale, and then you're going to be looking for another career. When word of this gets out at court, nobody will trust you with their dealings."

"Valeria?"

Remant paused, gathered himself, and then turned to look at her. "You must be Lariza... Acklin?" 

She shook her head. "No longer. Lariza Sundarin, as of... well, quite a few years ago. May I ask who you are?"

Remant nodded, and watched as Sir Dominic Reville rose from his chair and moved hesitantly out of the room. "I go by Remant," he said. 

"Ah," she said. "Like the legendary hero."

He sniffed, amused. "I'm not so legendary," he said. "But I worked out a deal with your father and brought it to your solicitor yesterday. It's more money than Sir Reville would have paid, and doesn't require me to kill your father, regardless of what he's become."

"Oh?" she asked. She sounded... well, more interested than anything else.

He nodded. "Unfortunately, I mentioned where I would be retrieving the funds to Valeria, and she sent word to Sir Reville, who set four of his armsmen to assault me and take the letter of credit, essentially allowing him to purchase the property without drawing on his own funds."

Lariza considered that for the better part of a minute. "And what happened to his men?"

Remant dropped into the chair and glanced down at the swords on the floor. "Nothing good."

She shook her head. "I should have known, when he increased his offer. He was my father's friend, and kind to me when I was a child, but..." she looked at Valeria A'Maris. "And you. I trusted you." She sighed. "Get the contract out -- and there had better be nothing amiss. I assure you I will be reading the whole thing." 

Music: Try Jesus

 Tobe Nwigwe:

RoH: Another Ambush

Remant was well outside of the Temple of Rilique and the square in front of it, and heading down the street towards Solicitor A'Maris's office when two men stepped out of an alley in front of him. Their coats were heavier than they should be -- likely brigandine -- and they wore swords and had scarves covering the lower halves of their faces. 

He stopped and glanced back, seeing two more men coming up behind him. With a sigh, he spoke a Word and removed himself to the far end of the street. He almost managed to melt into the crowd, but someone behind him was exceptionally observant; there were shouts, and the rapid pounding of feet. Here at mid-morning, the street was only lightly crowded; still, there were a few shouts of protest as the men raced after him. 

It would be simple enough to remove himself further, but Remant was starting to get irritated. This couldn't be an accident; they were too persistent, and too sure of their target. No, these four had been sent. 

So he stood and waited, not even drawing his sword until they came closer. All four had blades out now, and Remant extended his empty left hand as he targeted the closest one. The bolt of magical force took him in the right kneecap and sent him face first into the cobbled street, causing the man behind him to stumble and forcing the other two to maneuver around him. 

Remant voided a clumsy stroke from the stumbling man, and stabbed him the bicep, twisting his blade before he pulled it back out and kicked the man into one of his companions. The man's sword hit the ground with a clatter, and the armored plates of his brigandine coat did nothing to prevent Remant's point from doing its work. 

The next man came in more carefully, and Remant smiled. No mere ruffians, these; they were armsmen, and well-trained. People were beginning to shout as Remant slid in past the man's attack, caught his sword-arm at the wrist, and punched him in the face -- once, twice, a third time -- with the abbreviated basket hilt on his sword. The armsman dropped like a rock. 

The first one was just starting to stir; the second had sunk down against the wall of a cobbler's shop, clutching at his arm in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. The last one had started forward, eyes blazing with visible hatred even with the lower half of his face covered by his scarf. 

"Are you sure?" asked Remant. "I haven't killed any of you yet, and I'd hate for you to be the first."

The man didn't answer; he just stalked closer, moving from angle to angle with his blade. 

"You're going to lose a hand," Remant warned him. 

He came in anyway, and Remant dropped back, keeping him at a distance and feeling him out. The man was good, trained and experienced both, doing his best to close in without over-extending himself. If all four of them had come at him at once, Remant might have been in trouble. 

There we go. This was someone who customarily fought with a shield, but hadn't brought one along because it would be too obvious on the street. A side-sword was one thing, and a coat of brigandine was close enough to a leather coat not to attract too much attention, but a shield would have been another matter altogether. 

Remant shifted to attacking his right side, forcing him to shift his stance and parry cross-body, then came in and twisted, cutting down. 

The man's blade hit the ground, his hand still attached to it. He screamed, clutching at his stump, and Remant sighed, reached into a belt pouch, and pulled out a bit of cord. "Stay still," he said, as he looped it tight around the forearm, then used a moment of conjured flame to cauterize the wound. 

The man passed out.

The first man had come to his feet and was trying to flee, but his knee wouldn't support him and all he could do was hop while dragging it behind him. Remant cleaned his blade on the unconscious man's shirt, stood, and strode after him. 

RoH: Business with the Temple

"Your pardon, good sir," said the priest -- or possibly priestess; with the shorn hair, he couldn't be entirely sure. "Only those with business in the Temple may bypass the line."

"Good morning," Remant said, forcing himself to smile. "As it happens, I do have business with the Temple. Some years ago, I deposited some valuables with the Temple of Rilique in distant Sandovar, and I need to pull a letter of credit against that deposit."

The priest(ess) nodded. "Ah, I see. Very well, come with me." 

She led him into the Temple, making an almost immediate left out of the antechamber, and led him over to a row of desks, where another, older priest looked up. "Ah, Lesh. And a bit of new business, I see." 

She nodded. "He says he needs to make a withdrawal."

"I see. And your name, sir?"

"Remant." 

"And have you a token for your deposit?"

Remant nodded and fished the small coin out of his pouch.  

"A moment then, goodman Remant." The older priest rose from his desk and disappeared back into a sort of library, its walls lined with shelf upon shelf of identical books. He returned after a couple of minutes, carrying one of them, then opened it and began flipping through it. "Ah," he said after a moment. "Here you are. Yes, a deposit -- just at the end of the war. And in a rather large amount, at that. Very well. We can provide a letter of credit, or with a few days we could pull the sum together in coins. How much would you care to withdraw?"

"Six thousand," Remant told him, "as a letter of credit."

"Easily done," said the priest. He pulled a sheet of parchment out of the desk, filled in the critical sections but left the line for who the credit was to be issued to blank. He had Remant sign it as well, then made a notation in the book, and then on a scroll on his desk. 

"I thank you," Remant said, taking the letter of credit and rising from his chair. "A good day to you both."

"Likewise," said the older man, sliding the token back over to him. Remant bent down, took it, and followed the young priest(ess) out of the Temple. 

Music: Tear The World Down

We Are The Fallen: