OPEN | Blood And Ice

[northcliffpass]

Civil Blood

I. News from the West

The story of why gets twisted and distorted between its departure from the Crags and its arrival in Northcliff Pass, but the town criers maintain consistency on a few points: Althea of House Jessamy, Duchess of Black Rock, has at last thrown down the gauntlet against the Duke of Cliffside, and has called on her vassals to rally their bannermen. It seems there will be war within the borders of Maireglenne for the first time in a hundred years.

Given the state of the roads leading through the pass, it is understandable that the news is a few weeks’ stale by the time armed soldiers sporting Duke Galein’s colours march (or gallop, if they are astride a horse) past the village walls and garrison themselves on the festival grounds. Anyone objecting to this new arrangement is encouraged by the soldiers to bring their objections to the garrison commander (who, rumor has it, personally oversees the flogging of objectors himself).

Like it or not, the regiment is here to stay, at least until they receive orders instructing them otherwise. On the bright side, the soldiers did the hard work of clearing the pass for the season; travel between Northcliff Pass and the city of Cliffside just got a heck of a lot easier this winter.

II. Cold Snap

And it’s highly likely that those orders will be as delayed as the news, for the regiment has hardly been within the city walls a week before the temperatures plunge to dangerous lows. This is not the seasonal frigidity accompanied by blustery blizzards that encourage snowball fights and a bit of ice fishing down by Sands Creek, but a cold so biting and bitter that any prolonged period spent outside in it runs the very real risk of hypothermia and death. This is the kind of cold that leaves the air clean and clear, with nothing to impede the watery white light of the sun for the few hours it spends above the horizon each day before setting again; it cuts the lungs when inhaled and bites straight through to the bone. Many of the village’s poor are brought within the sturdy walls of the Town Hall and the chapel, because the alternative is finding them frozen solid in the streets.

The silver lining to this development is bare indeed; avoiding the cold means that, for a time at least, the village residents and soldiers are too preoccupied hunkering down to endure the cold to be at cross purposes.

III. A Howl in the Night

On the third night of the deep freeze, an animal’s piercing howl shatters the oppressive silence that has settled over the village.

It’s not a wolf’s howl; it is far too shrill and keening, and comes from a great distance away, that much is clear. The few villagers brave enough to risk exposure to the cold will find nothing of immediate danger within the city walls--but should they lift their eyes and look to the gossamer clouds near the summit of Gods’ Reach, they will glimpse the dark silhouette of a massive winged beast circling the mountaintop in search of a safe place to roost.

Comments

[stableman]

Detlef's head jerks up at the noise, and blood drains from his face. It's not a soldier who followed the horse. It's a shepherd. It's the very shepherd that's been lurking around the village and he's been working so hard to avoid. A soldier might be easily convinced that nothing was happening, but the shepherd?

"The horse is, it's good. Not as spooked as it seemed." His voice sounds weird to him. He can't run in this weather; not only would it be cruel to whatever animal he had carry him, he's just not equipped to survive in cold this bitter. He doesn't have supplies enough, or layers enough. But what else is he supposed to do? ...and if he runs, there's so many soldiers who will be right on his tail, too. Can Shepherds be bribed? Does he have anything that would be good enough to serve as a bribe?

"Did you... want stew? There's, there's hot stew inside." Maybe being warm will help, and the Shepherd will see something inside that he wants and Detlef can just buy him off? Really, he should have tried to prepare for discovery a little better after the last time.

[shepherddain]

It would be much, much easier if the other man didn't immediately act like Dain had caught him in the act of murder.

He doesn't answer right away, thinking both very quickly and not at all, and that silence speaks volumes more than any words would. Can he still pretend he saw nothing? There are worse things than being seen as an utterly oblivious Shepherd. The only worry is if that somehow gets back to the church, which -- Dain looks quickly around, but they do seem to be alone with the horse.

"Stew," he replies, slowly, and thankfully not nearly as incredulously as he feels. It's definitely not a bid to buy himself a little more thinking time. "No. Thank you, though." He gestures at the horse, now standing perfectly calm. "You... certainly have a way with animals," he finishes feebly.

[stableman]

The glancing around makes him wonder if the shepherd is going to simply kill him here and now, get it over with, but somehow even when the stew is turned down Detlef is still alive and the guy hasn't run off to call in soldiers. He's really not sure what's going on, but he's still breathing. Technically.

"I'm the stablemaster," he says slowly. "Animals... I take care of them?" It's a fact, he shouldn't sound like he's asking if he does, but there it is anyway. "Mostly just horses, herd animals, and the cats." Detlef gestures at the stables. Maybe he shouldn't be saying so much about himself but it's not like there's a massive population to vanish in. If the shepherd goes to town and says the blond man near the stables had just soothed a horse with the vice, everyone's going to know who he's talking about.

"And you're... uh." The shepherd. "...Newish."

[shepherddain]

And a stablemaster would, of course, be even more competent with animals than a stablehand, right? Leaving aside his immediate reaction, anyway, that's a measure of plausible deniability.

What in the name of all the gods and saints is Dain supposed to do now.

"Yes," he answers, seizing on the subject change gratefully. "Newish. Very new. I don't think we've met, I'm Johannes Dain." And then, in case names might be a step too far in this situation, he offers an alternative: "Did -- did you say cats?"

[stableman]

What's he supposed to do with a shepherd's name? Why is Dain even giving him his name? You don't introduce yourself to someone you're going to--except what if he's not going to have him executed? What if this man is like Lance? He's not, of course. He's a shepherd. He's probably executed a lot of people for having the vice whether they did or not, that's what shepherds do. But if he likes cats...

"Detlef," he says slowly. Dain already has his position and description. A name isn't going to give anything else away. "I'm Detlef Zauber. And I did."

Detlef glances back at the stables before nodding his head at the door. "They're warm inside, if you'd like to come in. I'm sure this fellow would be glad to be out of the cold for a little too." He starts walking that way slowly, not wanting to risk sudden movements. ...As if sudden movements would startle a shepherd out of calm and send him off? He's not sure what he's thinking there. All he knows is that he's very stressed.

Once inside, it's very warm. There are a few stools by the fireplace, two of which are occupied by cats. Another cat is draped over the mantle, and a fourth gets up and stretches as they come in. Other loafs can be seen here and there.

"Three of them are mine. The others are, they know it's warm and they'll be fed and not harmed, so they linger."

[shepherddain]

Oh, many cats. Dain pauses just inside the doorway to the stable, taken aback in the best way possible. He smiles in spite of himself, the small delighted smile of a child encountering a new favourite thing for the first time, before it fades with the ease of practice.

He can, and should, keep acting like nothing happened. But Detlef isn't fooled. It's cruel to keep him so thoroughly on his toes, particularly when he has just as much reason not to say anything to the church as Dain does.

Dain clears his throat, still a little awkward, but more composed than before. "I'm happy, if you are, to assume our conversation started in here. With the cats, and the horse already calmed. It would... erase a good deal of discomfort, I think. I'm sure we're both better conversationalists than that."

It's skimming so near the line of plausible deniability that it can't honestly be called plausible anymore; but it'll do. It has to. Dain watches Detlef, silent and still, waiting for the reply.

[stableman]

He looks at Dain in disbelief, completely confused about where this is coming from, before his brain wakes up. Does it matter why the shepherd is willing to ignore what he saw? No. No, it doesn't. Detlef breathes out a sigh of relief and nods.

"I, yes. I can't guarantee a great conversation, I'm fairly prone to puns, but in that case, welcome to the stables." He tries for a smile and manages a faint one as he gestures toward one of the stools. "That's one of the strays there, Miss Pants." True to her name, her rear legs are more fluffy than her front ones, and they're a darker shade of grey-striped than the rest of her. "She likes tum--stomach rubs. And the fellow next to her is another stray. Mister Fingersnap. I wouldn't try petting him." The orange tabby is watching them both, stretched out to ridiculous length.

Detlef closes the wide door behind the horse and leads it in to where he can loosely tie its lead near a water trough and some hay. Horses may be fine in the elements, but why leave them to be fine when they can be comfortable? A tiny white cat follows him, tapping his boot frequently with a tiny paw, and gets scooped up before he comes back over to the stools.

"And this is Moose. She's mine."

[shepherddain]

As far as Dain is concerned, puns are a much better topic of conversation, as are cats. He lights up with a smile, takes one of the stools, and listens to Detlef's introductions with rapt interest. He heeds the warning not to touch Mister Fingersnap -- just gives him a nod and a light wave, as though cats recognise the same sorts of body language humans do. "Nice to meet you, Mister Fingersnap. Don't worry, I'm not a permanent fixture. I'll be out of your hair soon."

He honestly, genuinely does not intend that to be a pun.

What Dain does do is put one hand down near the ground for Miss Pants to come and sniff, making soft clicking sounds with his tongue. He doesn't usually get the chance to make friends with animals, but he doesn't often get the chance to make friends with humans either, and he's pretty sure they operate on the same sort of don't-come-near-me-you're-a-scary-stranger logic.

"Moose?" he asks, amused, as Detlef rejoins him. "That's a big name to grow into."

[stableman]

He takes a breath and sits down as well, as Miss Pants accepts Dain's attention with a bump of her forehead against his fingers. This will take some trust, but he doesn't have any real choice in the matter. Miss Pants' approval helps a little bit, though.

"That's the point," is what he says, far from his actual train of thought. "She was the runt of the litter and wasn't eating well so I took her in and named her and now we'll see how big she gets." There's quiet pride in his words. Moose, for her sake, seems content to be held with one arm while receiving headscratches.

Detlef is quiet for a few moments, letting Moose's purring calm him down further, before he looks back over at Dain.

"So you're... stationed here? Do shepherds do stations?"

[shepherddain]

Dain draws his hand back in surprise as Miss Pants bumps into his fingers, before remembering from limited experience that it's a sign of the cat's approval and not a sign of some inattentional blindness. He's been accepted. The smile grows and he carefully strokes her, ready to stop the moment she changes her mind.

He didn't need more reasons to know Detlef is a good man, but the pride in Detlef's voice as he talks about his hope for Moose's future certainly adds to the list.

"Stationed?" Dain laughs. "Not quite. We travel too often for that. I didn't mean to be here long -- I was investigating the appearance of ghosts, before we were snowed in. Once it's safe to travel, I'll be leaving again."

[stableman]

"Oh, I see." He's quiet again for several minutes. If he hated the cold less he'd wish he had an ability to mess with the weather instead of just influence emotions - trapping the shepherd who might not be bad here and keeping the ones who are absolutely bad out sounds like a rather nice plan. Unfortunately, that's not his skill set.

"Those were stressful. I'm not sure anyone really figured them out." He'd put coin on the person behind the chaos being the one who died half-turned into a plant, but he's never been good at betting. What he really wants to ask is how a village maybe stops having shepherds come by, but he's not sure Dain would want to answer that. It's a little rude. Then again, so is burning people to death. "Did you find anything?"

[shepherddain]

Dain hesitates, gently scritching Miss Pants' head with two fingers. When he first spoke to the Captain of the Watch -- Lance -- the Captain had made it quite clear that speaking of the source for the ghosts might be dangerous. Dain's inclined to believe that, given the state of the woods, and he's avoided the topic ever since.

Then again, it's likely Detlef's asking out of concern other shepherds will return to follow up, so Dain can't very well say nothing. "I didn't find what caused them to appear so suddenly," he decides. "But I did find what stopped them, and they shouldn't be a problem again. Certainly not one that warrants further investigation."

Read: no other shepherds.

"It's impressive," he adds, deftly changing the subject, "that you can take care of so many animals in the winter, when things are scarce. Have you always done this?"

[stableman]

He wonders why something that will stop ghosts isn't lingered on. Does it have to do with the Vice too? Is there something they can do in the future? But he's not going to ask extra questions of a shepherd. Even one that isn't in a rush to hurt people who use the Vice.

"Ever since I came here," he says, looking around. "I just... I don't want them to go hungry so I prepare. When people come through town they put their horses up for lodging so that pays, then when animals are ill I tend to them and often get things in trade in return. It's not a glamorous life, but I like it."

And Farogil makes his life a little more glamorous, with the embroidery and fancy clothing that Detlef adores but can't afford.

[shepherddain]

Not a glamourous life? If Dain's rapt attention and obvious interest are anything to go by, the truth is the exact opposite. He's wary about asking too many questions, lest it be taken as an interrogation, but -- he would enjoy this life, he thinks, living with a family of cats in a small village with simple concerns and simple tasks.

"If you like it, it's glamourous enough," he says, smiling. "And for Moose, for these strays -- you're a lifesaver. You put good into the world. Isn't that right, Miss Pants?" He scratches the back of Miss Pants' head, so that she raises and lowers her head in a manner not unlike a nod.

[stableman]

Glamorous would be somewhere warm, where he could wear really nice clothing all of the time. But this is at least a life he enjoys, when he isn't getting caught by the umpteenth person because he doesn't know how to be sneaky. That's not something they teach, unfortunately. Not that he's ever had much of a chance for being taught something that isn't about animals.

He finally smiles in return when Dain notes what's important - that he helps the cats. The animals, really, but he's most partial to cats.

"It isn't like they can help themselves," he says quietly. Moose starts kneading his arm and he shifts her a little so she's instead kneading the leather patch he has on his sleeve just for this. "Someone has to be there for them, and I like helping. And I'm good at it."

Detlef shrugs. "Taking over for the old stablemaster seemed the perfect fit. ...Can I, did..." He takes a breath. "Why are you a Shepherd?"

[shepherddain]

Years of practice restrict Dain's reaction to one startled twitch of his hand. Miss Pants looks up at him, but quickly and easily settles again when Dain makes it clear he's not about to stop stroking her.

Why are you a Shepherd? is a question Dain would have been absolutely sure he misheard, were he still back in Cliffside or Fairport. Why do you want to be a Shepherd? is a question he's answered before, usually for the priests at the orphanage or his instructors as he grew older. Is there something about this village he's missed, or does the instinct to hide vanish when you live so far in the mountains?

"Well," he answers slowly, in an effort to buy himself a little time to think, "I underwent the training, and then I passed the tests... you don't live in the stable, do you?"