Sir Ain’t-a-Knight

In which there is sass

East Andale
-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#
The lane here widens to form a square of sorts and has several carts sitting at nearby buildings. People hurry back and forth between the two busy shops. Handel’s Mercantile dominates the north half of the square, and the smaller shop, Verloren’s Found and Lost, sits to the south. There are several benches here for those waiting on shoppers and horses hitched to posts.
-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#
You can go: Handel’s Mercantile <N>, Verloren’s Lost and Found <S>, Andale
<W>, Herberg Road <E>

Haft walks through Anvard, glancing around at the various shops and villagers.

Dubheasa appears fresh as she starts her day at dawn. She appears to be anxiously awaiting someone important.

Astor checks a list in his hand, murmuring things like,”Plate, spoon, sack of flour” barely audible to himself. He heads toward the merchantile and seeing that it is not yet open, sighs.

Haft stops near Dubheasa, then turns his head back and forth, as though looking for someone else he expects to find in the spot she now occupies.

Dubheasa perks up and tries to catch Haft’s attention. She dances in unison to the turning of his head.Dubheasa asks, “Looking to deliver a letter, sir?”

Astor looks up at the word ‘letter’ and observes the interaction while he waits.

Haft frowns at her. “You’re not the usual courier,” he says bluntly.

Dubheasa says, “And you’re not the usual chivalrous knight.”

Astor raises an eyebrow, and turns aside to cough/chuckle.

Haft makes a face. “I ain’t a knight…why do people keep thinking so?”

Dubheasa asks, “Because you’re wearing armor. If you’re not a knight, then what are you?”

Astor appears to have a coughing fit now. His cheeks are red as he struggles to control his laughter.

Haft scowls. “I’m a member of the palace guard.”

Dubheasa says, “Isn’t that what a knight is? You protect the palace? Follow orders? Rescue damsels in distress? Not harass beautiful, red-headed teenagers.”

Astor practically chokes and at last gives in to his laughter. “She should meet Sir Tyren.”

Haft turns a puzzled expression on Astor. “What’s that?”

Dubheasa turns to look at the new comer. “Beg pardon?”

Astor controls his laughter at last. “I want to see her impression of Sir Tyren. And I’d be curious if Sir Tyren would describe himself that way.”

You ask, “How do you know Sir Tyren?”

Dubheasa asks, “Is he also a knight?”

Astor matter-of-factly mentions, “Sir Tyren is my brother-in-law. Lady Astera is my sister.” To answer the girl, he nods and explains, “Yes, Sir Tyren is a knight and one of the best, in my opinion.”

“I ain’t a knight,” Haft reiterates, before replying to Astor. “I see. I didn’t realize, my lord.” He offers a small bow.

Dubheasa folds her arms across her chest.

Astor waves the gesture away, a slight flush. “There’s no need for that. Just Astor, if you please, or Master Innkeeper now.”

Haft looks a little confused, but nods before turning back to Dubheasa. “If we’re done discussing my rank or lack thereof, I have a letter to send. Where is the courier?”

Dubheasa mock bows to Haft. “You be looking at her, Sir ‘Ain’t-a-knight.'”

Astor raises an eyebrow at her sass. “What might your name be, Miss? I cannot imagine your work would be plentiful unless you happen to be a swifter courier than most.”

You say, “Just so.”

Dubheasa straightens her posture. “Well, young masters; I so happen to be the apprentice of the swiftest courier in all the land. He’s never here and has far too much work, so he brought me under his tutelage. You would be my very first assignments.”

Astor smiles into his hand as he pretends to think. “I see. And do you range far on your route?”

Haft mutters to himself.

Haft mumbles “I don’t suppose the second fastest courier is available is he?”, to Haft.

Haft mumbles “… … … … second fastest courier … available … …”, to Haft.

Dubheasa exclaims, “He gave me a set route, but I’m prepared to go anywhere I’m needed. Oh, and I forgot my name. Dubheasa. :turns to look at Haft “That’s right. I am the second fastest! Soon to be the fastest!”

Haft sighs. “Look, I ain’t got much time. I’ve got a letter I need delivered to Chesterton, to my sister. I suppose you can manage that?” He doesn’t look too hopeful.

Dubheasan says, “Fear not, I-Ain’t-A-Knight. I shall deliver your letter, post haste.”

Astor grins. “I have no need of a courier at the current moment, but if you find yourself in Lancelyn Green, Miss Dubheasa, my inn is in constant need of a courier.”

“My name is Haft,” Haft says crisply.

Dubheasa turns to Astor. “That is actually the route I am to take. Perhaps, after I deliver this letter, I might find you in Lancelyn Green?” Dubheasa turns to Haft “Ah, glad to hear your name, good sir palace guard. Now, the letter, if I may please.”

Astor nods positively to her inquiry. “I will be in town for a day or so, but then I intend to head back there. If I am not there, ask Prindella, my assistant, or my wife Simetra.”

Haft hands over the letter reluctantly, giving her the details of how to find his brother-in-law’s house. “Make sure it actually gets there. I had an awful time with a message going astray some months ago.” He hands her a couple of coins.

Dubheasa squeals in delight. “My first assignment.”

Astor chuckles and then observes the Mercentile owner arriving. “Well-met Dubheasa and Haft. If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to purchase.” He nods in farewell.

Haft nods to Astor, mutters, “Lucky me,” to Dubheasa, then turns and heads back in the direction of Anvard.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s