In which Haft tries to kill Peridan
You stand on the curtain wall that divides the courtyard from the seashore just
outside the castle. The walkway here is wide, probably to accommodate bulkier
defense arms should the situation call for it. The south side is additionally
fortified by rising parapets that match those on the tower battlements. To the
south, you can see the garden-like courtyard, most notably the vegetable garden
that supplies much of the food served in the Great Hall for feasts. A stone
staircase runs down along the wall into the south end.
You can go: Into the Main Tower <E>, Into the West Wing <NW>, Down the Stairs
Haft leans against the wall top, gazing southward toward where Archenland must eventually lay, far beyond sight.
Peridan walks along the wall, checking on guards and various things around the wall.
Haft leans his chin on one hand, frowning a little.
Peridan stops the man, grinning slightly. He walks up behind him, “Contemplating life?”
Haft starts, then turns to the other man, offering a bow. “Does it show?”
Peridan dips his head to the man, “No, I can just read minds.”
Haft shudders. “Comes with being a commanding officer, no doubt. I always knew there was something fishy there.
Peridan nods, “It is a requirement actually.”
You say, “Hmm.” He hesitates, then confesses, “I’m just thinking of a situation I’ve got to deal with back home.”
Peridan leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, “Would you like to talk about it?”
Haft sighs. “I’d like it to go away on its own, but seeing as that won’t happen…” He shrugs. “I left Anvard on bad terms with a friend. I ain’t sure how to set it right.” He frowns. “In the long run, I’m wondering if it’s best for either of us to even do so.”
Peridan tips his head, “I have found that relationships have their highs and lows.”
Haft nods. “Yes. She’s…” he searches for words. “been good for me, mostly. Pulled me out of the corner, got me talking to folk again. Some, anyway.” He turns to glance at Peridan. “You can imagine I was, uh…out of practice.”
Peridan grins faintly, “Yes.” He takes a breath, “If I may, what happened?”
Haft looks uncomfortable. “It’s a rather…distasteful story, and I can’t tell you everything. It started several months ago, in fact.” He grimaces, but continues in a subdued tone. “In short, I nearly wasted the chance you gave me when you spoke on my behalf to the king.”
Peridan raises an eyebrow. “I feel like this story needs a drink and a bite to eat. Would you be willing?”
Haft unclenches hands he didn’t realize he’d curled so tightly and nods.
Peridan turns, “Follow me.”
The Satyr’s Hoof Tavern
You stand inside the Satyr’s Hoof Tavern, a lively and warm social gathering
place that is always patonized by many of Sted Cair’s good citizens. The
room is brightly lit with dwarven-wrought lanterns, and the walls are adorned
with maps, ropes and other adventurer’s gear. Tables are scattered around in
no particular fashion, and serving wenches casually stroll among them, taking
orders. A large menu on the wall behind the bar lists the current fare.
There is also a long bar along the southwest wall, with crude wooden stools
set in front of it. Behind, a tall, handsome-looking Satyr is serving
beverages to the patrons seated there.
The northeast door leads out onto the square.
You can go: Out <NE>
Contents: A son of adam with blue eyes (Peridan); Datillo, the Tavernkeeper;
Pricelist; and Wolves and Foxes Game Set.
Peridan leads the man into the tavern, “My treat.”
“Thanks,” Haft replies, looking around for a table and finally settling on one nearer the corner than not.
Peridan orders to mugs of cider and joins him. He sits down across from the man, leaning forward quietly.
“Always good cider here,” Haft says.
Peridan grins, “I do enjoy it.”
Haft says, “Well, basically I acted like an idiot and did something that shamed the uniform, and intimidated a resident of the castle. The king spoke to me about it. My captain addressed it…” Haft sounds like the thought of the conversation with Lune still makes him sick.
Peridan’s eyebrow raises slightly at this but continues to remain quiet.
Haft ducks his head. “And then I was ordered to stay away from the man, and…” he shrugs. “That was about it, for a while. He went off on a trip to another town and I got on with my duties since I still had them.”
A serving Faun brings two ciders to the men and Peridan nods at him in thanks. He takes a sip, still listening.
You say, “Anyway, he’s back now, and he’s had a change in position, so he eats in the mess now, or would, but I’m there, so he avoids it. Meanwhile, she’s friends with the both of us and is sore at me for not resolving the issue.”
Peridan asks, “And why do you not want to resolve the issue?”
Haft looks irritated for a moment, then shakes it off. “I /do/, Sir, but it’s very difficult to apologize to a man you’ve been ordered not to approach.”
Peridan takes a sip of his drink, “By King Lune?”
Haft shakes his head. “The king recommended I not make things worse by trying to mend things too soon, but that was months ago, and it wasn’t an order. Plainly the situation could hardly be worsened by an apology at this point. No, it was one of the knights. Said to stay away from–well, a place the man commonly spends time. My captain backed that up with a command to stay away from the man in general.” He sighs. “If it had only been the captain, I could have spoken to him and gotten permission, but the knight isn’t at Anvard at the moment, and hasn’t been for some time. Asking the Captain to countermand the order puts him in an awkward position, so the only way to really address the thing is to go to the captain and ask if I might pen a letter to Sir–to the knight. It’s overly involved and a dratted nuisance. I’d hoped to wait for the knight to return…my friend is not so willing.
Peridan says, “The one who counseled you to make amends? ”
You say, “The one who’s /badgering/ me about it, aye. She wanted to act as some kind of in-between, suss out whether the man might be willing to accept an apology, but as far as I’m concerned, having her do that is just a way of circumventing plain orders.”
Peridan taps his chin in thought. “I see and you and this friend got into a fight about this?”
Haft stares at his untouched mug. “Yeah. She’s right that it needs to be dealt with–course she is. But I knew that already. But she doesn’t seem to trust that I /will/ handle it. She feels like she has to involve herself.”
Peridan taps his fingers on the table, thinking.
Haft sighs. “Frankly, I’m worried that she’ll do just that while I’m away. And I don’t know what to do if she does. And I don’t know what to do even if she doesn’t.”
Peridan leans forward, “First, I would not worry about what may or may not happen when you are away. That will just rob you of your time here in Narnia. Second, perhaps, this knight will come back so you can discuss it with him when you do return.” He takes a sip of his cider, “I do believe that you want to make amends, both with this man and your friend. But, with that, relationship are two-sided as well. Your friend also needs to respect your desire to go through the proper channels first. For you and I understand that there is a chain of command and it is there for a reason.”
Haft nods. “I’m glad I’m not alone in thinking that, anyway. She can be very…adamant in her views. She’s always sure she’s right.” He frowns. “That’s why…I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a future to our friendship. She’s always so confident she knows what’s best…I think it’s her youth, or maybe she’s just stubborn. I mean,” he spreads his hands, “goodness knows I’m stubborn too. Only…sometimes I feel that I spend too much time with her on the defensive. Trying to defend an action she disagrees with, or shamed for a joke because she thinks it isn’t funny. It’s…wearying. Sometimes I think…” He trails off, then takes a hearty gulp of cider.
Peridan looks at him in question. “You think?”
Haft frowns at the cider, then answers slowly. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m more of a project to her than a friend. Something broken that needs repair.” He laughs hollowly. “Maybe I am, but that ain’t what I signed up for. I wanted a friend, not a minder.”
Peridan smiles faintly, “Perhaps, you should be honest with her? Tell her this is how you are feeling?”
Haft runs a finger along the edge of his mug. I might do. I feel like I’ve said something to that effect before, but…I don’t think it likely to have much effect.
Peridan asks, “Then maybe she is not a friend worth having?”
Haft looks glum at the suggestion. “I’ve thought it. This trip, spending time just doing what I was born to do, looking after Lady Avery as needed–not that I’m needed much–without worrying about saying something my friend will condemn…it’s refreshing.” he sighs. “But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be lonelier for want of her company.”
Peridan leans back, rubbing his temples. “I know that it is hard, sharing your feelings. Trust me, I’m terrible at it. But you are either going to have to be honest with her about how she makes you feel or live with the regret and annoyance until you snap.”
Haft wrinkles his nose in distaste at the suggestion.
Peridan sips his cider, “Life is not sunshine and roses. It is messy and hard but if we want to be true to ourselves, we are going to have to be willing to speak out.”
Haft raises his brows. “I suppose I’m not allowed to call you out on the number of cliches you just invoked, Sir, since they did accompany sound advice?”
Peridan eyes the cider, “Perhaps, my brain is a tad slow?”
Haft snorts. “Unlikely.” He asks, “Couldn’t I just lock her in a tower till she’s forty? That seems by far the best course.”
Peridan hehs, “I do not recommend that course of action.”
You say, “Well, it was a nice thought. I still need to get her something. Said that I would. Any ideas? That Weasel suggested a map.”
Peridan hmms, “Or perhaps a carving? We have some wonderful craftsman.”
You say, “That’s true, though I contend that the doors of Anvard can rival anything Narnia can produce.” He breaks into a sudden grin. “And my youngest nephew’s well on his way to doing the same.”
Peridan tips his head, “Oh, is he wanting to be a carpenter?”
Haft says, “Already apprenticed to his father. Me-my friend accompanied me to find my sister a few months back. Turns out I’ve got a niece and two nephews.”
Peridan grins, “I’m glad you were able to reconnect.” He eyes the man, “I hope I have been of service to you?”
Haft eyes the mug. “I hope so too. Was…good to get it out, anyway. Thanks for listening.”
Peridan points to his ears, “I’m just glad they work.”
Haft grins. “I bet Prince Rabadash’s work better.”
Peridan happens to be taking the last sip of his cider as Haft speaks. He spits it out, beginning to choke and almost falls on the floor from laughter.
Haft grins, then swigs back the last of his drink, rising. “You all right there, Sir?”
Peridan catches his breath, also rising, “I may have to charge you for trying to kill me, Haft.” His eyes sparkle though.
You say, “Pretty sure I’ve been accused of worse, though not by better.”
Peridan claps the man on the back, “I am jesting.”
Haft smiles and nods.
Peridan begins to make his way out of the tavern. “I’m glad I could help.”
Haft walks alongside, accompanying Peridan back toward the castle. “Thanks again, Sir.”