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Lexington's Side Encounters
...shortly after arriving in Deeptown
Meanwhile...
Mulling over the best way to handle the situation with the thieving innkeeper, Lexington stepped out to watch the foot traffic outside the Inn of the White Horse. Leaning against a wall he barely noticed the faces he
saw until he saw one staring back at him. Lost in thought, he took a moment for the face to register as one that he knew. The knight blinked, focusing on the face, making sure his imagination wasn't playing games
with him.
The face focused on Lexington and smiled.
"Lexie! Fancy meeting you waay out here!”
Lexington cringed at the use of his childhood nickname. His uncle Cardelle didn't seem to notice. The squat man gave a word to the men loading the wagon at his side and stepped over to his nephew.
"I can hardly believe it,” Cardelle said. "If only I had know sooner you were here.”
Lexington noticed that with each step, his uncle's face grew grimmer. When the two were close, too close for the casual passerby to overhear, Cardelle began to speak in a worried whisper. "I've got to get our
feed to Avalon and can't spare but a moment, but I've got to warn you,” Cardelle said."There's trouble brewing, nephew.”
He placed his arm around the knight and continued. "House Morlok is furious at Ambrose Sinclair's vanishing. He managed somehow to slip through their net, and you know how ill they take failure. So
they've found a scapegoat.” He took a sharp breath, then said, "You. They’re saying to anyone who will listen that you kidnapped Ambrose.”
Lexington chuckled. "I? My venture from our estates was public knowledge for months. I started my plans last winter, before the wedding was even announced.”
"You think the Morloks care about fact? They have someone that swears he saw you and Ambrose together near the Whispering Woods the day after you left your father's estate. That's all they need to build
a story around, and they'll repeat it enough that people will believe it. And the Sinclairs aren't arguing the point either.”
Lexington huffed. "They're just currying favor with the fat ones, too desperate to avoid fighting to worry about truth. Anyone who knows our House knows I wouldn't kidnap Cor- .... Ambrose.” He chuckled again. "Though
just now I -could- use the ransom.”
Cardelle jabbed a finger into Lexington's chest. "This is no laughing matter, Lex. They've hired bounty hunters to come after you. And there're rumors they're bringing in a diviner to find Ambrose's
whereabouts.”
The mirth drained from Lexington. Whether a diviner placed Ambrose at his bodily remains or in heaven, it wouldn't be a plain falsification of the kidnapping charge. Poor Ambrose. Poor stupid, impulsive Ambrose. To
have gained his freedom just to die from a foolish act in the heart of a dangerous dungeon....
His uncle was speaking again. "I know you had no hand in kidnapping Ambrose. Hells, you didn't have time. The truth will come out in time, so far no one that matters have pressed that the Morloks have
stalled on questions of a ransom demand or motive, but for now you need to be on your toes.”
Anger began to well in Lexington. The past days had been bad. Companions that has folded in the aftermath of resistance that had been overcome, loud joculous dwarves that kept him from sleep, an innkeeper that had
stolen from him in the first minutes meeting, and now these lies being spread about him. Scowling, he said, "Does House Morlok court war with our House with these baseless accusations?”
Cardelle shook his head. "They've been careful to exclude the House at large from any foul word. They say that an impulsive child has done this out his own evil whimsy and has shamed the Cheshire name.”
Lexington slammed the side of a fist against the inn's wall, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm. "I must return and set this straight. I must...”
"You must do no such thing, not right now,” Cardelle interrupted.
"If you take the road back to Avalon now, you'll walk right into the hands of those bounty hunters who will certainly kill you and claim you resisted them. I don't know what your plans are and I don't want
you to tell me." He shuddered. “The thought of them prying into my head chills my bones.”
"Just be careful, Lexington.” Cardelle looked over his shoulder.
The men at the grain wagon were done with their preparations and ready to depart. "I must go. Take care and may the Creator protect you.”
Cardelle stepped toward the wagon.
After a heartbeat, Lexington followed. "There is one thing you might do for me, Uncle”, he said, putting false cheer in his voice. No one in earshot need suspect the gravity of what the two had just been saying. "I
need someone to trust in this town. Would you be so kind.....”
His uncle grinned, "This place can indeed be a snakepit, although it does have its uses...” he said, absently patting the load of "special" grain. "Money is what talks here, The
Trade Circle - a bunch of merchants - is the real Law in town, as long as the money keeps coming in they will tolerate a lot. But by your comments, I figure you’re about broke.” He grinned and scratched his ample belly. "Tell
you what, since you’re my favorite nephew, I'll help you out.” In a lower voice he continued. "Find Voodian Ibraan. He has a "shop" in the Old Town ector. He owes me. Voodian can fix you
up with any basic gear that you need; just don't get too fancy or I'll hear about it later. He's an odd one, but you can trust him enough for your purposes. Also - Cassius, the head priest at The Church of the Holy
Order is a good guy; he doesn't fall in with those bigoted Elders back in Avalon. Just don't put him in a bind; he's got enough pressure on him with the Sect of Sixty running loose around here. I've heard the old
halfling priest over at the shrine of Yondalla is a good guy but don't know him.”
Cardelle paused for a moment, tapping his chin with one finger. "And if you really screw up and need a place to lay-low for a bit, find DabberDen, it's to the northwest of here, I think, those beast-kindred
were saved by a Cheshire Ranger a few winters back, they will honor your name... just watch your valuables and your private thoughts!”
He let loose with that trader’s grin once more. "Guess that's about it, anything else?”
Lexington chewed at his lip a moment, considering. Finally he shook his head. "No, Uncle, your information has been invaluable. I thank the Creator that we chanced to meet. If you will though, send word to my
father that I am well, better even, and that I had nothing to do with any 'kidnapping' of Ambrose Sinclair.” He chuckled again, almost ashamed at the wickedness of the thought that popped into his head. "Perhaps
the power hungry that would rule Avalon had a hand in it, to spread dissent.”
Cardelle smiled scratching his rotund belly, "The Creator must have brought us together in this busy town so far from home. I will indeed speak to your father, though I am certain he already knows you had no
part in any misdeeds.” He paused and curled his lip. Slipping back into his grim tone, Cardelle said, "That is indeed a dark theory, Lexington, I only hope it proves incorrect.”
Then, just as quickly, he smiled again and lightened the mood. "Oh and by they way - don't be surprised if you run into that crazy cousin of yours! You know who I mean, the one who composed those embarrassing
ballads about the family during the week of Holyfest! Ever since you left he's decided he's going to be some kind’a Bardic adventurer.” He chuckled just like Lexington had a moment before. "Get this,
he's calling himself NightSong or some such...won't even let his own mother call him by his real name anymore. He did a ballad the other day about your exploits against fat Mother Morlok. We scolded him of course,
but I swear Grandfather smiled when he thought we weren't looking.”
He shook his head, smiling. "Well...I've got a load to deliver.” With that he gave Lexington a final pat on the back, then turned and ordered his team to head out, giving his nephew one last, oversized
wink before leaving.
Lexington waved as he watched his uncle depart.
"Nightsong?” he muttered. Which cousin would...oh wait, of course. There was but one it could be. The one who spouted such tripe as "all truth is in songs," and "songs have power you cannot imagine," and who swore to every god there was that there was an ultimate song out there waiting to be composed. The one who dabbled a little bit in magic, little bit in healing, never finding himself interested in the family tradition of horses. Never interested in any tradition for himself really at all. He could name off dozens of traditions of dozens of places, but never kept to one himself. Oh the troubles he'd started on occasion. The nasty song about the Morloks sounded just like him. Lexington smiled a bit before realizing that song may be stoking the fire of hate in House Morlok against him.
"I must remember to reward 'Nightsong' with a fine punch in the nose,” Lexington muttered. He turned to step back into the inn and check on his traveling companions, not noticing that he was chuckling at unbidden memories of his cousin's childhood mischiefs.
The distraction had been just what he’d needed. Lexington had been focusing so closely on what had been irritating him, he couldn’t get away from wanting to bash it all with his sword. The chat with his uncle had
been a tonic to that, and with the information he’d gained, the knight now had a plan. He walked up to his room and penned a quick note for his traveling companions, just in case of disaster.
Moments later Lexington was back on the decadent streets of Deeptown. Revelers were everywhere, how any business actually got done was a mystery. He turned a corner to find an entire street blocked by a company of
halfling troubadour tumblers. They were a talented bunch, showing off acrobatic feats so daring that Lexington was sure they would end up flat on their face, and Lex let himself watch and enjoy the show. As he
tipped them, he asked for directions to Voodian Ibraan’s shop and received enthusiastic directions that he was cursing mere moments later.
Though he followed the halfings’ directions precisely, Lexington was soon lost in the maze of narrow, Deeptownian streets. The sun was beginning to set before he located the proper building, only to find that the
doors were locked and Ibraan’s shop closed. Cursing all over again, Lexington turned on his heels and began the long walk back to the Inn of the White Horse. He had planned to describe to Ibraan that gold necklace
won from that dead orc shaman and get an appraisal. Now he would have to fake it during the next stage of his plan, confronting the thieving innkeeper.
Lexington mentally rehearsed the exact words he would say to the innkeeper as he made his way back to the inn. He knew he would have to be very careful if he were to get what he wanted. A wrong word or too-harsh tone
of voice would send the wrong message, and then he might wind up with a knife in his back.
By the time he reached the inn, Lexington had his words carefully chosen. He paused and lingered outside the inn’s door, reviewing everything one last time. As his gaze wandered the street around him, Lexington’s
attention was stolen by a flurry of activity across from the inn.
A small hoard of people, arms loaded with costume accessories for the Festival of Plenty, were exiting the wig shop there. As they shuffled out of the "Wig Shop," one strayed behind: a tall, attractive
woman with hair so grape-purple it must have been a wig. She stared sternly across the street at Lexington, tempting him to cross over to her to find out why. Before he got the chance, a horseman in a red sash rode
by and blocked his view of her. The next moment, she was no longer there.
Lexington shook his head. "This town...” he muttered. Rubbing his temple, he pushed the strange sight from mind and walked on into the inn.
Inside the common room, the innkeeper was having a quiet, nervous conversation with a tall human. Whether Lexington interrupted them, or if their business happened to be concluding anyway, they finished talking as
Lexington made it clear he was not simply passing through on the way to his room or a table.
The human nodded at the innkeeper, then turned to walk out, revealing that a patch covered his right eye. The man passed a fat, fur-footed halfling who at once fell into step behind him. Neither gave
Lexington the slightest bit of attention as they left the room, taking the smell of greasy chicken with them.
The innkeeper was wiping sweat from his brow as Lexington walked up, but his twitching lip settled into a smile that seemed to speak of relief more than pleasantries. "Wh--<cough>--what can I do for you, good sir knight?” he asked.
"I need to speak with you, privately," Lexington said. He scanned over the all but empty common room. "That is -if- you think you can spare the time.”
The innkeeper straightened his shirt. "Well I am busier than you might think just by looking, but...” He motioned to a chambermaid and told her to keep a watch on things, then led Lexington to an oversized broom closet off the rear hall. A short table and chair, both with piles of parchments on them, had been shoved into the room and Lexington realized this was what the innkeeper was using for an office. He felt the barest moment of pity, but it was washed away when the innkeeper spoke.
"Now, then. What may I do for you?”
Lexington stood with his arms crossed and began his carefully rehearsed side of the conversation. "I'd like to talk to you about a certain gold necklace...the one you offered to sell us just as we came
to your inn.”
The innkeeper’s expression did not change a bit from its usual blank mask, but Lexington noticed a small bead of sweat running down his brow. He leaned forward slightly and dropped his voice to a low whisper. "You
and I both know from where your fingers lifted that necklace. I have no proof and I am not going to any local authority about this.”
He paused long enough to catch a faint sigh of relief at those last words, and then continued.
"I'm indeed hoping that you're willing to make this right here and now. If you're not, if you want to deny all of this, there's nothing I can do about it...”
Now the innkeeper raised his eyebrows, plainly curious about this blatant confession, but not nervous as he’d been with the eye-patched man. Lexington smiled and finished his sentence. "...Not right now. But
I am a just man, and justice has a long memory.”
The innkeeper’s raised eyebrows lowered into the hint of a scowl.
"Dear sir,” he said with a pleasant smile that Lexington knew to be a practiced fake, "such a needlessly threatening stance from one so new to town.”
Lexington had expected this. He kept his own smile and said, "This is no threat. This is an explanation of how things are. If you don't fear justice then you have no reason to fear me.”
There was a silent moment as the two regarded each other. Lexington straightened, but made no move for his weapons. Any hint of violence on his part, right here and now anyway, would put the wrong tone on the
conversation. Lexington had to make the innkeeper honestly respect him on his own wily terms. The disposition of the necklace itself was almost irrelevant.
Finally the innkeeper spoke. "I see. Well noble Knight, I believe we can work this out. You are clearly a reasonable and honorable chap, unlike certain other elements new to town.” He threw a brief glance at the closed door. "You
see the medallion was ‘acquired’ by one of my poor stable boys, a desperate chap trying valiantly to care for his sick mother and siblings, I of course pay him as much as I can, I even let him take dinner scraps
home to his family. He was trying to ‘raise’ money for his family, it was meant as nothing personal towards you. Why I would never have offered misplaced merchandise to a nobleman like yourself, especially if it was
your treasure that had been misappropriated.”
The smile had never once left his lying face, but neither had Lexington’s. With the innkeeper’s second sentence, Lexington knew he would be getting something for that necklace. Now it was a matter of getting all he
could. Returned the smile tooth for tooth, Lexington said, "I am pleased that you perceive that I *am* a reasonable man, and not *simply* honorable. I am further pleased to hear my hope that you
would be willing to see things to a *reasonable* solution was not misplaced. I would be most pleased now to hear how you believe we can work this out."
The Innkeeper’s sweat had vanished from his brow and his posture had relaxed. Still smiling, he said "Well friend knight, first; in order to help make amends for this misunderstanding, let me say that for the
duration of your visit at the White Horse Inn everything will be on the house! Your room, breakfast, drinks etc. I can even have your armor padded and cleaned as well as your weapons sharpened. All at the Inn's
expense. Your mule will be fed the best oats in town, cleaned groomed, hooves clipped, why I will even have it's teeth brushed. Your wagon will be checked by one of my waggoneer friends, who owes me a favor. By the
way, a stableboy told me, one of the wagon wheels is not very secure, I'll get that fixed, wouldn't want anything to happen to my new friend! Now it's getting pretty late, how about you go get a hot bath and a good
night's sleep, I'll send one of the Inn's best wines up for you. After a good night's rest and a hearty breakfast, we will work the rest of this out.”
"I am certain that we will get past this, and you clearly being the bold adventurous type, I probably even know of some legends and tales that you would find interesting.” At last he stopped long enough to take a full breath. "So
how does that sound for starters?” He now stared at Lexington with eyes slightly widened in expectation.
The knight stared back, but with narrower eyes. The innkeeper *sounded* sincere, but there was no question he was an expert liar. He was offering valuable services and leaving the door wide open for more. Lexington
could defiantly get fair compensation for the necklace, and the respect he wanted. If only he could be certain the innkeeper wasn’t simply lying to buy himself some time.
Lexington studied the man, trying to read his face. The inn master had completely recovered from the twitching and sweating that plagued him just moments before. His face was now its usual professional mask of
pleasantry. But Lexington had already seen behind the mask, where the coward hid. The innkeeper had never, ever, imagined that the burly, unpleasant knight would come up to him and respectfully request a polite
confrontation about the stolen necklace.
And he certainly hadn't expected that Lexington would demand something beyond the obvious. It hadn't taken the innkeeper but a moment to regain his composure after that, but in that moment Lexington
thought he had glimpsed sincerity, not treachery. Perhaps the innkeeper really meant everything he was saying. More likely he believed he could play "the trusting fool" of a foreign knight, throw him
a few services for free and spin a few creative tales that might actually be true, and still make a king's ransom from the necklace. Or Lexington was dead wrong and he had already witnessed his last sunset. Cautious
trust would do for now. If the innkeeper thought Lexington an easy fool, he would learn how wrong he was soon enough. The knight was determined to get a lot for that necklace. And certainly a man could get more of
the sort of things Lexington wanted were he a thief among thieves than a visitor trying to play by the rules of proper civilization. Come morning though, he aimed to find out personally just precisely how much that
necklace might have brought him.
The silence had stretched on, but the innkeeper still wore the look of a patient horse trader. Lexington leaned back and cracked his knuckles as loud as he could manage. He yawned. "Do you know something?”
“I am a little tired. Your reasonable outlook has lifted a burden of worry from my shoulders." He stood and yawned again. "We have come to agreeable states-of-mind and that satisfies me for the
time being. I will indeed take you upon your initial 'start', thank you greatly. What if we settle the details over a meal tomorrow?”
He moved to step out of the tiny room, shifting his weight and reaching for the door latch. Just as the innkeeper cleared his throat to speak, Lexington cut him off. "Oh, but one thing,” he said as he worked the latch, "despite
your offer of taking care of my expenses at your inn...” he pushed the door open and continued. "I must insist you allow me the honor of paying you a proper gratuity,” he said, walking out of the closet. With a final nod over his shoulder to the innkeeper, which allowed him to see that his jaw had dropped (he regained his composure almost at once, but the smile wasn’t quite as strong) Lexington headed on up to his rented room.
Once inside his room, Lexington wrote what had just happened between the innkeeper and himself... in dwarven, just as an added precaution. He rolled and sealed the scroll then left his room in search of
Crystal’s beguiled servant creature thing. The knight wasn’t quite sure how he felt about such beings, human-made sentients with no soul to hold the spark of the divine, but it would probably hold onto the scroll
and deliver it to Crystal should any harm befall Lexington.
When that was accomplished, Lexington returned to his room, secured the door, and took a well-deserved nap before dinner.
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Compiled by Lexington Cornelius Cheshire (Way to go Wes!)
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