Lightholder Tavern <Palace District>
- It is said - primarily by the proprietor, a jovial merchant-classer named Solas Creek - that all roads in Fastheld lead to the Lightholder Tavern. On any given night, it's not hard to see why he might justify such a claim.
- The pub, which started centuries ago as a small refreshment wagon for laborers building Fastheld Keep atop Caryas Hill, sees boisterous crowds filling its rafters with laughter and pipe smoke at all hours of the day and night as travelers make their way through the realm.
- About three dozen tables are arranged among the polished wooden columns on which hang the wrought-iron lanterns that help give the tavern its name. Solas or one of his assistants can usually be found working behind a wide C-shaped counter, serving mugs of keg-tapped ale to thirsty patrons who stand at the bar.
- The floor is strewn with amber rushes, except in a circle of about twenty feet in diameter, where the stone fireplace and chimney rise toward the ceiling.
Although he sits in a corner table, chair moved back against the wall, any scourge in a tavern stands out. Savarius Kahar holds a goblet of river wine, one elbow resting on the table.
Stepping down from the stairs above, his boots clap against the wooden panels. With a wide mouthed yawn, the man stretches and finally makes it to the bottom step. His hand grasps the support and looks to any within the Tavern. His eyes widen as they set upon the scourge, an obvious person to spot in the Lightholder as it is a bit common of a sight. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Trenton steps around the stair's handlebar and nods to the Scourge, with a blank sense of emotion upon his face.
Savarius reaches up with a gloved hand to rake back his salt-and-pepper hair, gaze drifting to the man nodding at him. "A g-good day to you, child." His voice, a rich tenor, is marred by the erratic jump of a stammer. "Are you by any chance a Ma-Master Trenton Lark?"
Trenton crosses his arms, his hands grasping at his own elbows. His head turns to the side, and a bit up while his eyes look down on the man that is sitting, "I might be. Whose asking?" he says and turns his head to the left slightly, as if punctuating his words with his head tilts.
Redana Moss has arrived.
"I am scourge Savarius Kahar." That said, the scourge gestures with the creak of leather to a chair across from his person. "P-Please do join me. There are s-some things I wish to speak to you about. This v-visit shouldn't come as much of a sur-surprise."
Trenton nods to the scourge, a bit more nervously now. His hazel eyes glance upon the man and finally he takes a seat, across from the scourge. He promptly, however, pushes the seat back a bit so as not to leave any part of his own body out of sight and under the table. "Nay, it bloody didn't. One of them wenches that live here. She told me, can't say I'm too pleased, but perhaps I should view it as an honour a scourge has taken interest in me." he says, with a bit of sarcastic flare.
Redana Moss clambers down the stairs with a couple of blankets in her hand. With little fanfare she wanders over to the kitchen door and disappears inside. She returns, places hands on hips and surveys patrons in the room. Her eyes stop on the familar for of the scourge and then to his companion. "Hah," she murmurs to herself, "Look who won." She smiles and looks back into the kitchen, "Gotta runs out fer a fer Mary. Back soon." Quickly she grabs a cloak from behind the counter and starts walking towards the door.
"You may d-dispense with the sarcasm." Savarius responds, flatly. "I am not here f-for the mere purpose of preaching to you; As a shard of th-the lightsworn, it is my duty to investigate suspicious matters. I think you w-will agree with me when I say that any epidemic with such a peculiar death toll is a matter of interest to both the church and your government." He folds his hands, staring at Trenton from behind laced fingers. "I s-see you have recovered adequately. Would you care for some wine?"
Trenton sighs and nods. Trenton isn't used to be serious, so he puts on a stern face and he keeps quiet. His eyes scan over the scourge's facial features before once again speaking, "Nay, I'm not one for wine. I understand you wish to investigate me due to some accusing me of being the reason the king is dead." his head shakes gently.
Redana Moss saunters her way around the table, flinging her cloak over her shoulders as she walks. The door opens with a flourish and she disappears outside.
Redana Moss has left.
"No. I do not wish to in-investigate you in connection with the d-death of Emperor Talus K-Kahar." Savarius responds, still watching Trenton with an unwavering gaze. "I have no doubt th-that others will grill you on such matters... Only m-matters concerning the Light are my concern. I am here to first ask questions, and t-to offer the guidance of the church if you pay attention to s-such things. I don't think I speak out of turn when I s-say that it may b-behoove you to care about it, as the Light is the final judge of our actions within the mortal coil."
Trenton looks over the scourge with a bit of disdain. "Very well, lets get on with the questions then, shall we?" he says and then looks over his slightly bumpy skin once again, "I neared death twice with this plague.. However. I do think I've done my fair share of caring and paying for my sins." he says, crossing his arms once again as he looks towards the bar and then back at him.
"Oh? W-We shall come to that part later. Let us b-begin with the Shadow District, as the pox also started. " Savarius answers gravely, expression unwavering as he watches Trenton. "Keep in mind, I am n-not here to enforce imperial laws. You may tell me what you w-were doing at the time, as well as the places and people you interacted w-with for the day prior to your departure."
Trenton smirks, "I, sir, was just bloody going there to retrieve something from my home. As I was leaving, a Chaori Balsam was there and supposedly checking those for the plague. A mister Aghol Zahir was there...I left promptly after we had spoken. I do not care for nobles, and I care not who asks."
"Your home? Where within the district d-do you reside?" Savarius asks, steepling his fingers once again. "It sounds like a sh-shady place for a peer of the realm to go, as well. Wh-Where did you see them?" The questions are fairly rapid and delivered without any apparent emotion.
Trenton rolls his eyes. Trenton doesn't like answering questions to those he doesn't know or care for, and that is quite apparent with the sighs, grunts and rolling of eyes as he answers the scourge. "I live in the Lost Hope Tavern, or did. A room up there, I resided in since it had been empty. End of the hall. They were in my room when I got there. The tavern was full, so they went there. I believe she was examining Aghol, or perhaps, had done so before I had arrived."
The multiple signs are not lost on the scourge. He reminds, in an ever-so-gentle voice, "We could c-conduct this discussion at Sun's K-Keep, perhaps. You seem to be repeatedly distracted by the ceiling of the t-tavern." The dagger is there in the velvety tones, a hint of the man's own impatience. "When you left, did you come d-directly here to the L-Lightholder Tavern? You seem to travel a great deal. What is it you d-do for a living?"
Trenton smirks and shakes his head, "Here would do just fine. I thought I saw an insect upon the ceiling." he says, and immediately jumps to an answer, "I came directly here, yes. My occupation is of no matter, as it is just odds and ends. Though I do some courier work for anonymous people here and there."
"I s-sincerely hope that when you are questioned by officials, that you realize they won't find 'of n-no matter' an acceptable answer." The scourge answers, voice now cold. "I will assume you are in one of th-the less acceptable occupations that both blades and church frown upon... Nonetheless, we shall move on. Wh-when you arrived in Lightholder, whom was present that you recall?"
Trenton this time shows a bit more emotion this time and slams his fists down at the table, colliding with a bang. "Listen here, I do nothing illegal. I'm a simple man, a working man. Don't dare insult meh, like that again. Understand?" he says, his anger set on fire. "It was empty....only person was the barkeep, that I knew of."
"Legalities are the interest of the Blades. Shadowry is the interest of th-the church." Savarius answers in icy tones. "You seem very unaware of how the church works, I suspect f-from your very lacking upbringing. If you raise weapon to me, I will be free to shoot you down like a g-gutter cur with no consequences. Do you understand this? " The scourge stands slowly, blue eyes hard as he regards Trenton. "Your soul is wayward and in p-peril, that much is blatantly clear. Consider th-this, Lark... When you d-die, the Light is the final judge far m-more than any passing concern of earthly nature. As Brother Flint is the expert on the matter of the pox, he will be consulted with the results of this meeting. Expect to hear back from us, Master L-Lark, on what you may do to cleanse your presently piteous being."
Ganeos Seamel has arrived.
Trenton stands and turns to him, raising his hand, "You wait there just a bloody moment." He says and pointing his finger at the man, "You dare accuse me of attuning myself to the damned shadow? I deserve no such thing! As far as I'm concerned, you don't deserve to be killed. My was taught to look out for myself as a child, and that is what I will continue to do." he pauses, lowering his hand and then promptly points again, "I ain't done nothing wrong, and now you accuse me of so much more. Why must you burden my soul?"
Ganeos walks into the room, a composed figure with oiled hair and gray clothing. His hands are clasped behind his back, eyes idly studying the room and it's patrons.
"I do not accuse. I ob-observe." The scourge responds, flatly. "I don't even speak of your spreading the pox.. In that, it seems likely that it was sheer accident, as far as concious throught g-goes.. Your actions, however, speak very loudly, L-Lark. They scream defiance and d-defensiveness to the world in the manner of a petulant child. You w-were clearly brought up without c-common decency and r-respect, and enough foolishness to presume to th-threaten a servant of the church. I greatly doubt you've s-set foot in a shrine in ages, so it's no surprise to me th-that the pox found a morally bankrupt body t-to eat into. Perhaps you can b-be re-educated, for the good of your own soul."
Redana Moss has arrived.
Trenton smirks, shaking his head, "I do not threaten you, but remind you that I am innocent of anything. And that last I checked, judging a man for his past was shunned. But perhaps I am not literate in the ways of the church. Do not try to convert me, nay, I will not become a servant as you. I work for myself, and hope the church does it's job so that I may do mine."
Ganeos seems to find his interest soon enough, looking toward Trenton and Savarius, moving that way. "Ah, Master Lark, how fortuitous that I should find you. I was very much looking forward to talking to you." His gaze swings toward the man in armor, nodding his head, a respectful aversion of his eyes. "Ah, Scourge. It is so nice seeing the Church's anointed out and actively involved."
"You declare yourself innocent, but cl-clearly you misunderstand one fact about Fastheld. That f-fact is that the church of true light is the one true r-religion, and someone who professes not to care in the least f-for our ways is a heretic in th-the making." Savarius responds, lifting both eyebrows. "For the good of your own future, I must undertake the unpleasantness of your company. You will report to the Lightholder shrine tomorrow for your new job tending it, as w-well as a basic education. Stay absent at your own peril, for then you will go to the more intensive environment of S-Sun's Keep." At the Seamel's greeting, he nods politely.
The door flies open and in flounces a red headed woman. "Hello all," she calls to no one in particular, "I'm back." A couple of patrons raise their hands to her as she hurries over to the counter.
Trenton turns his head to the Seamel, and raises his eyebrow, "Arn't I the lucky man today, eh?" he says and blinks back to the scourge. "I'm sorry? you want me to become a eunuch?"
"You are. Rarely is it that one draws such attention to oneself." Ganeos replies, then looks to Savarius. "I'm afraid this man is already indisposed, Shadow Scourge. Previous occupation and all that. His allegiance to the Light shouldn't be suspect, particularly at this time after such a grievous title has been dropped on his shoulder. Words coated with venom are often given freedom, when under normal times, such words would never even be considered. Isn't that right, Master Lark? Also, I don't think anyone will ask you to become an eunuch. At least yet."
"Certainly not. You d-don't have the dedication to become lightsworn." Savarius answers, with a sniff. "No. You're going t-to do community service and receive a basic, working-man's ed-education. I bid you g-good eve, Master Lark.. And I encourage you to th-think very carefully before deciding to skip out on your new obligation." He turns to face Ganeos, raising both eyebrows. "He n-now has a new duty. As for his allegiance to the Light, he claims n-none. I bid you good day." With that, Savarius turns to leave.
Redana Moss slips off her cloak and tucks in up behind the counter. Out comes an apron which she fastens around her waist.
Trenton turns back towards the scourge, "You just wait a bloody second. I already have a working man's education, and job. So, you can take that bloody job and give it to some of the poorer peasants. I'm a busy man...and perhaps you should heed this good man's words." he says and nods to the Seamel.
"Perhaps you're speaking in haste and making a bad situation worse?" Ganeos saids in a low voice, obviously intended just for Trenton. "Do not give him more reasons to remember you then he already has." The Seamel nods at the departing scourge, "Light Bless all it's loyal servants." Hazel eyes move back to Lark, "Now, it is my turn."
"At h-heart, you are poorer than th-the poorest peasant. You may appeal to B-Brother Bandus Flint if you wish, but I doubt it'll make much of a difference." Savarius calls over his shoulder, and with that, he's gone.