Spring 23, 1388
Madeleine inspected her collection of gloves. Most were black and made of lace, pairing well with any of the many dresses she wore. Lately, she preferred working with her hands, if only to feel the weight and texture of reagents before processing them. So, much to her annoyance, she had to go the opposite way.
She inspected a pair of thick leather gloves that at least had a pretty gold clasp at the back. It could be tightened to make it form-fitting which worked wonders when she didn’t even want to leave a fingerprint, in case some [Inspector] knowing divination was hired on her enemies’ payroll.
She had thought she wore it well, with a strong black dress and a fur scarf. She even had to ditch her favourite set of hats to replace it with a beret, and borrow some of Angelica’s ridiculous glasses.
She looked different for sure, and if she had a pipe in her hand, she’d be no different than the other girls in Maritiva, except she did not care about the ‘revolution’ and figured the guillotine was a rather crass way of solving the poor folks’ problems.
Thankfully, she wasn’t one.
One of the rich ones, she corrected herself.
She could look rich, but it wasn’t an [Aristocrat] who ran off into the forest trying to find something – anything to eat. And it wasn’t any [Aristocrat] who learned how to perform rituals under the guise of the old ways by a deer that walked.
But it was an [Aristocrat] who decided that the girl’s potions were better used to serve king and country, and wouldn’t offer her starving family any recompense.
Madeleine paid for her goods, and she invested in certain young chéries that showed promise. Though, she did lie to her as well…
Madeleine stopped herself from continuing down that path, and instead, just stepped out of her shop and approached the center of town. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
The air was fresh, crisp and was currently being polluted by the sounds of singing.
Well, the voice wasn’t bad. Nor the hand drum being played in a deliciously erratic way. No, it was the accent.
She could tell the tones of a city-born Maritivan by their stubborn insistence to pronounce EVERYTHING! They took no shortcuts or sideturns, which made their Queen’s Common sound so… snobbish!
And people would think her accent was like his! She combined words and used contractions, very much! She was born in a village, where time actually mattered.
Instinctively, she upturned her nose, walking away from the [Bard] belching out a song to a bunch of weak-willed and lack-of-taste peasants.
Until she heard the words.
“The mist came down on Lyric Bay,
It stole the light, it stole the day.
No goblin scream, no bandit cry,
Just silence 'neath the weeping sky.
The door stood firm, the windows tight,
But Death walked in the room that night.
She wore a veil of spider's thread,
And walked among the living dead.”
Madeleine pushed through the crowd, elbowing lovestruck imbeciles out of the way. She only made it to the front row before he began to sing the chorus.
“Oh, hide your kin and hold your breath,
For no one knows the mind of Death.
She does not take the whole or none,
She flips a coin for everyone.
Four were taken, four were left,
A mother of her heart bereft.”
Her body froze as both things she feared were happening at once.
The first was a simple amount of information, espionage, and possibly newt-turning to fix. The [Bard] was singing about something she knew far too much about.
And the second was far worse, and would have far lasting repercussions.
The man was a Maritivan! Not a noble – they were hopefully in prison – but at least upper class. His face and grin, and that massive beard just suggested that he had the same fashion sense as a merchant’s son.
And his voice!
He couldn’t even do the accent right!
“The Guardsmen came with steel and light,
But found no monster in the night.
Just gold upon the bloodied floor,
A king's ransom, and nothing more.
Why pay the sheep you mean to shear?
Why buy the lives you hold so dear?
The Inquisitors burned the house to ash, To hide the truth of the blood and cash.”
Madeleine’s eyes narrowed. He looked the part of a vagabond she detested. A leather jacket puffed out like a peacock, and tight pants. He could dance and perform, between slamming his palm against the drum to keep the rhythm.
The man glanced over at Madeleine. If Madeleine wasn’t watching his eyes, she’d have missed it - his eye opened in recognition and his entire performance stopped. He quickly corrected it, but Madeleine wasn’t sure how many people would have noticed it - if they noticed anything odd at all.
Then, the man smiled, and leaned over to Madeleine. His song lowered like a stage whisper,
“They say she spoke, but no one hears,
The words are lost to mother’s tears.
Was it a game? Was it a test?
Or just a monster’s cruelest jest?
They call her Daughter of the Dark,
Who leaves the gold and leaves the mark.
So watch the fog upon the sea,
And pray she doesn't visit thee.
For if she knocks upon your door,
You'll soon learn what she came for.
Four she took... and four she left.”
The last whisper was so soft that the entire crowd leaned into their ears. As soon the words left his lips, he slammed his hand on the hand drum. A few people jumped backwards, grasping their chests or each other. Madeleine, for her part, rubbed her ears.
“Merci à vous!” he said, giving an exaggerated bow. The crowd around him began to clap, and some even threw silver coins. Madeleine couldn’t do anything but shake her head in contempt.
Salaud couldn’t even say ‘merci’ without sounding like a snob!
Still, the [Bard] gave her something to think about, even if it wasn’t her main goal for the day. The peasants could have him. She turned around to walk away.
“Ah, Mademoiselle La Croix, what are you looking for adventurers for?” he called, sliding beside Madeleine. Madeleine immediately halted.
“Do I know you?” she shot back, narrowing her eyes and inspecting him. Sure they were from the same country, but it was obvious to anyone who had any sense of fashion and upbringing that she was born somewhere better than he.
The [Bard] though frowned and looked over at her again. “I read your biography. You set it for yourself, right?”
Madeleine's expression froze and she quickly turned around. “What?”
“Uh…Ta biographie ? ‘Seeking daring adventurers for quests… also selling potions and other things’ non?” the bard motioned.
Madeleine stared for a moment before it clicked in place!
Her Biography! She had shown it to Ashley days ago, but Oakheart didn’t have many heroes that could view it!
Ashley never set one, and she purposely avoided Noel and Adrian and never bothered to look at theirs. Spending time in that village made her forget she was still a [Hero].
She pulled up her own biography.
“Oh. I suppose I am.” Madeleine turned to look at the man, and used [Inspect] as well.
She narrowed her eyes. That was incredibly small. Either a man of his age was incredibly junior and only got his [Hero] later in his life… like if he had escaped from a country in a revolution and had to make do. Or, with how well informed he seemed to be, was pretending to be junior using the current situation as cover.
And Madeleine couldn’t tell which. Though, forgetting to turn it off was on her. It wasn’t easy to find another [Hero], and her time in Oakheart had started making her careless. That was a massive error if she walked into the shop like that.
Wait.
Tarskel stared expectantly at her. Madeleine smiled, and then offered her gloved hand.
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“I am about to break into a store. Tu veux te joindre à moi pour passer un bon moment ?”
Tarskel’s neutral face turned into a bold smile. “Après vous, Madame,” He bowed in an exaggerated tone.
Madeleine led Tarskel towards Ms. Lycamora’s Herbal Haberdashery. The flower shop had new arrangements sitting at front, and Madeleine could see the elf inside the store. She was attending to some plants, so Madeleine took the opportunity to push Tarskel against the wall.
“You look ridiculous! Like a merchant’s son that waddled out of a Maison Close with lipstick stains! She will clock you!”
Tarskel raised his hands defensively, before looking at Madeleine. “I am not the one that looks like a révolutionnaire! Besides, Madame La Croix, I seem to be missing the lipstick stai–” he began, raising his neck and pointing at the unblemished skin.
Madeleine’s hand QUICKLY slapped his face. The leather gloves left a stinging welt against his cheek. “There, that bruising works better for a salaud.”
Tarskel rubbed his cheek, angrily staring at Madeleine. “At least turn your biographie off or set it to private, “
Madeleine fumed, but the pair turned off their biographies so they could move around without being immediately identified. Madeleine began to walk ahead, but Tarskel moved up and wrapped his arm around hers.
“Ensemble, mon amour,” the bard winked, which made her fume even harder.
They stepped into the flower shop, and Madeleine began to open her mouth.
“Salut! I am looking for a gift for my beloved here–” Tarskel immediately began, talking to the elf. He didn’t even know the plan, but was already taking the lead.
Madeleine fumed, her face scrunching. Her eyebrows almost met as she considered all the ways to punish his transgression. A newt was a noble creature! A gnat? A rat? A rat would serve a merchant’s son well.
Ms. Lycamora however laughed. “I can see that. Whatever you did to your… bough? Am I saying that right? Seems like she wants to murder you in your sleep.”
“So, so close! Beau, but I would not fault your mispronunciation, and I thank you for trying! But my chérie here is more than a beau or a belle, she is magn –”
Madeleine slammed on his foot with her boot and then grinded her heel against his toes. “Actually, Chien,” both of these actions caused Ms. Lycamora to wince, and audibly sucked in air in both amusement and empathy. “I was told you could acquire a special gift… The Magpie flies sud..”
Ms. Lycamora looked between the two and then shrugged. “Don’t know who told two Maritivians’ but I’m not getting in the way of a lover’s spat. Let me open the door for you.”
Tarskel slid forward, his leather shoes sliding atop of the dirt on the floor with ease. “Merci, mon ami!” He immediately reached into his pocket to find a few silver coins, which he placed into the elves' open hands. “Will you escort us down, or is your duty up here?”
She blushed, looking up at Tarskel and letting her hand linger against his for a moment longer. Madeleine felt annoyed, but felt far more annoyed that she had to be annoyed to keep the appearance up, and grabbed Tarskel’s collar and dragged him back.
“Ah… No! There’s another woman down there that handles those sales. I just uh… tend to the flowers.”
“What about the clothes?” Tarskel asked.
“Clothes?” Madeleine and Ms. Lycamora said.
He pulled out a book from his inventory. “Haberdashery - Noun - ‘A store that sells men’s clothing or items for sewing’.” He closed his book, and waited expectantly at Ms. Lycamora.
“You know, I bought this place from the previous person who was a tailor, and I just thought Haberdashery was a fun word. Queen’s Common is my third language, and I didn’t know it meant anything.”
Tarskel nodded sagely. “It is a beautiful word,” and then said something in singsong. Madeleine recognized it as Elven from her time with elves, but she herself didn’t speak it.
Ms. Lycamora responded in the same sing-song voice, and her hand once again fluttered and slapped his side.
Too far.
“Avec Moi, Chien.” Madeleine stated, moving off his collar, and towards Tarskel’s hair and dragging him backwards. “Downstairs, Madame?”
Ms. Lycamora shook her head, and then opened the cabinet. She waved Madeleine off, and then gave a playful smile to Tarskel. Madeleine watched him, and he wisely didn’t flirt back.
The cabinet slid away, revealing the staircase down. Tarskel pulled away from Madeleine’s dragging, and instead, pushed his hand atop of her gloved ones. He didn’t squeeze in, but took the role to lead her downstairs. The cabinet behind him slid and locked closed.
The basement was massive, and with the dank smell, was probably a carved out passage that linked with the city’s sewer system - more often called the Undercity. The ‘mudroom’, for a lack of better word, had a simple sign.
Tarskel continued to smile. “You have some unmin–”
She pushed him against the wall, and leaned up against his frame. Her red lips came towards his cheek, but then slid up to his ears. “We are currently about to look at the Merchandise of a woman named Elizabeth Bazerie, the so-called [Blood Witch]. I don’t know what she sells, but her underworld is very–”
Tarskel raised his hand and pushed Madeleine’s head back. His other hand wrapped around her waist, and pulled her in. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, before sliding up to bite her ear. “I know where we are, Mademoiselle. [Bardic Knowledge].” he tapped his head with his free hand. “I may not know why you are here, but any woman willing to look like a révolutionnaire embodies the spirit of Janice.”
Madeline rubbed the spit off her cheek, and then looked at him. “You think I worship the Goddess of Secrets?! Imbecile!”
“That or Danu, but willing to look like a révolutionnaire and doing this ridiculous act seems more aligned with her.”
“I worship Mother Willow Bark!” she countered.
“Who?” Tarskel asked, but his eyes looked to the right. They scanned over something. “Oh. You… know that is likely an aspect of Da–”
Madeleine slapped him again. “I will not have another bearded man insult my patron!”
“Glad to know I fit your ty-”
She slapped him a third time! This got a chuckle out of someone behind the pair. “I know the sign says no fightin’ an’ all, but seein’ two Maritivan punks jus’ fightin’ each other is good eatin’.”
Behind the pair was a massive, massive orc, who’s green skin was on display, alongside his muscles and scars. His voice seemed like a deeper version of a goblin she was friends with, except more polished. If Wizex felt like a thug, he actually was a thug.
Tarskel pushed Madeleine off. “Ah! Good Orc! Just talking with the beau here. Sorry for disparaging your fine establishment.”
“Ain’ mine. Just guardin’. Thought there was a fightin’ goin’ on. Lover’s Spat ain’ my business. You got money?”
“Of course! I’m looking for something to make up with Maddy. Any suggestions?”
“Agoran fly?”
Tarskel snorted, and Madeleine crossed her arms angrily. “I think you’re putting me further in the doghouse, my brother.” Tarskel said, shaking his head.
The orc laughed too. “I like ya’ Maritivian. If ya are out on the streets, lemme know. Got a good place if you play cards.”
“Chien, mon cadeau?” Madeleine interrupted.
Tarskel sighed, and raised a finger. “I would love too, but between you and I, let’s hope I don’t have too. Tarskel, you?” He offered his hand to the orc, something Madeleine wouldn’t have even considered.
“Cole. Clo to my buds.” Cole took Tarskel’s hand against his and shook. Tarskel winced in pain.
“Well, Tar doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily, Clo. How about Skul?” He pulled his hand away and shook it off.
Cole nodded, and let the two enter properly.
Madeleine’s Underworld was solely her, and it was a small store that could hold mostly potions she made, and the occasional dead body for her [Necromancer] friend. Tarskel leaned in while she was looking around. His words whispered into her ear.
“For your information, Madamoiselle, I worship Janice. Just so we don’t have any secrets between us.”
Madeleine stopped perusing the shelves and looked up at him. She considered him for a moment, and then shook her head. “Work.” she responded, and returned to the shelves.
She normally sold potions and other small trinkets that were less than legal. Here, she could see poisons. Cursed Items. Overpriced [Blood Food]. Stolen Goods. She turned the corner and immediately halted in place. Tarskel was still looking at Madeleine and almost tripped by her standstill.
He followed her gaze upwards, and immediately froze too.
At the very back, in cages, were people. Elves, Humans, Orcs, and even a bird cage for a couple of faeries. Each of them had an odd-looking collar around their neck, and they looked blankly at the floor. Madeleine refused to consider them any further than what was on their necks.
Tarskel immediately looked away, but his grip on Madeleine’s palm tightened. She returned the squeeze in kind.
“Ah! You two like?” A deep, old voice sounded from the side. A middle-aged man walked over, wearing black and with sweeping white hair.
Madeleine swallowed, thinking of what she wanted to say.
“Ah! Monsieur! I am looking for a gift for my beau here, but.. I am curious. What are those things on their neck?” Tarskel stated. His grip on Madeleine’s hands were still tight and harsh, but she couldn’t hear that harshness in his voice.
In fact, he sounded like he was talking to the elf upstairs.
“Obedience! I’ve been working with my mentor on perfecting them. They… Well, anyone really, wearing them would be forced to obedience. The ones here start as low as 1000 gold pieces, or 2000 unminted. If you have someone you want yourself, we offer the entire service for 10,000 Gold.”
Madeleine’s stomach twisted. Her eyes again glanced towards the people in cages, and her thoughts returned to her sister waiting at home… and her own people back at her… old… home. She looked down at the floor, taking a breath.
“Clever! Clever!” Tarskel stated, cheer in his voice. “That, unfortunately, is a bit out of my price range, but very fascinating! I do not think my beau wants a servant though. Anything you have as a gift?”
“I can sell you a co–”
Madeleine’s finger twitched, and lightning began to form.
Tarskel again intercepted. “Uh… no. I am trying to be polite, monsieur. I do not want this or anything to do with this. Do you have any… how do you say..”
“Potions of Youth?” Madeleine interjected.
“Oui! Though, I tell you every day my petit beau, you look beautiful and do not need it.”
“Merci,” Madeleine stated, looking straight into the man’s face.
“That we do! I’m not the best alchemist, but I am able to get that around. Thankfully, that’s not too hard to make.” the man pivoted.
“You’ve me at a loss! You may refer to me as Skul, I am friends with your bouncer Clo. This is my beautiful beau. May I have your name, Monsieur?”
“Dawnwater. Matthew Dawnwater.” the man said, offering Tarskel his hand.
Madeleine stared at him. Where did she hear that name before?
Tarskel instead raised Madeleine’s hand with his. “Apologies, monsieur. I would love too, but then I would have to sacrifice my attention to my darling here. You understand, non? Nothing personal! Marivian customs!”
Dawnwater laughed, and patted Tarskel’s shoulder. He squeezed Madeleine’s hands tighter, and she returned the pressure. “I get that. If my mentor isn’t happy, my life isn’t happy either. I imagine yours is far more intimate.”
“Mentor, Monsieur?”
“The Underworld Queen herself!”
“...And she’s having her apprentice run a shop in the middle of nowhere?” Madeleine shot.
“What my beau means to say is that it seems wasted on you. Why here?” Tarskel corrected.
He pointed to the door. “Leads to the Undercity. It’s not that hard to get around, and I have my goods,” he said, beckoning to the cages – to the slaves. “I can set them up where I need, and anyone going from the Undercity can move about. I wanted to try a more central location.”
“Oui! Good idea, yes. Might be a bit crass for a flower shop’s basement, no?”
“Nah. Most of the clientele don’t mind it, until they hear the price tag. And then they buy something and leave. Usually, like your girl there, a potion of youth.”
“I no lo–” Madeleine began, but Tarskel pulled her in.
“We’ll take one. Would you be willing to give me some Opium as well?”
“Of course,” Matthew said, taking the pair to the back. He found them a package of opium, and then a Potion of Youth.
“100 gold, or 200 unminted.”
Tarskel frowned, and opened his coin pouch. “Um… dear…”
Madeleine sighed, and shook her head. “So much for mon amour buying me a gift..” she muttered, paying 100 minted coins. 100 minted coins away from saving her sister, again.
Tarskel beamed, and kissed Madeleine’s cheek. She couldn’t slap him here.
Instead, the two took the package, and looked to the undercity doors. Cole stepped in front. “Back up the stairs. You ‘ave to be initiated before you can go that way.” He then winked at Tarskel. “‘Ike, over losin’ your gol’ in cards, Skul.”
“The only one who's going to lose money is you, Clo.” Skul shot back, and moved up the stairs to the cabinet. They went up the stairs, and knocked on the cabinet. A moment later it opened, and Ms. Lycamora waved happily at Tarskel. She just nodded at Madeleine.
The two walked out.
Tarskel turned to Madeleine. “I appreciate the adventure, mademoiselle. If you ever need a beautiful bard again, I would happily help a daughter of Mother Willow Bark.”
Madeleine looked at Tarskel and sighed. For all the good-doers she knew, this one was the least aggravating. Except for his awful accent.
She smiled. “Well, I have some friends who will be coming soon too, if your goddess will let you keep a secret. I work at The Cat’s Second Cradle, drop by sometime, batard.”
“Batard, maintenant? Good to see I’m moving up in your world. I’ll see you there, is it okay if I call you Maddy, mademoiselle.”
“Sure, Skul,” she responded, rolling her eyes. The two separated.
She hoped Ashley wouldn’t kill him. She wanted that pleasure for herself.
Elkstra and Cloacal for the two new characters.
https://suno.com/s/fVEdzPT64QCt8wJv
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