Alasair 46, 228: Caedmon gets the bird

Caedmon gets the bird
Summary: A man from the docks delivers a strange package to Lord Caedmon in his chambers.
OOC Date: 03/10/2013 (OOC)
Related: TBD
Players:
Caedmon 
Royal Suite Two, Darfield Castle
This sitting room has a distinctly masculine feel to it. The walls have been painted tan and the floor is a dark chestnut wood. There are two large windows providing a gorgeous view of the ocean and providing light. Candle lanterns and wall sconces are set appropriately to light the room when needed. There is a hearth on the wall opposite the windows, a dark wood mantel atop the fireplace. Over the mantel, a stag's head with a large 15 point rack is given prominence. The sitting area is made of medium brown furniture, with deep forest green accent pieces, a couch, a couple comfy chairs and a table in the middle. There are several doors leading to a private room, the Royal Dining Room, and back out to the hallway.
Alasair 46, 228 2E

Caedmon comes out of the bedchamber and into the main room of his apartment and heads toward the couch. In one corner, his only servant, a young man of 14 years, sits in a chair in the corner, writing something on inexpensive paper using a quill. Caedmon is carrying a heavy book in one hand. On the table beside the couch sits a simple clay cup with a wisp of steam rising from it. The chancellor settles on the couch and sets the great book on his knees. Then he reaches for the cup so that he might take a sip from it before he settles for what appears to be an evening of reading.

A rap at the door sounds, perhaps someone in a hurry, to judge by the rapid fire taptaptap. It's unusual, yes, but on occasion such things do happen. Perhaps a messenger.

Caedmon frowns at the heavy tome, and then sets it aside on the couch. When the servant starts to rise, Caedmon raises a hand to stay him. "It's fine, Merrek. I'll see who has come at this hour." The servant resets himself, and Caedmon approaches the door. He raises his voice to call, "Who is it?"

"Tis Jeremy, m'Lord. I've a message, I think," says a voice. Jeremy is one of the folks who works on the docks, generally helping keep track of the fishing that's going on. Not usually in the palace at all. "Sorry to disturb ye, but thought maybe you should see this."

"Jeremy?" Caedmon murmurs. "Then he looks to Merreck again, and frowns. "He's not one for coming to the castle unless it's urgent business, and that hasn't happened in many months. Be ready." The servant touches a dirk that he wears in a sheath. Then Caedmon steps toward the door. Cautiously, he grasps the latch and opens it enough to look around its edge, ready to slam it closed if necessary.

Jeremy is there. By himself. He's got a box in hand, carrying it gingerly. And a small pouch. "Sorry, m'lord, I know yer busy but this washed up, and it waren't meant for me, by far, and you be the only one I know might know what to do with it," he says. The fellow's got tousled red hair, blue eyes and a slim build. He's maybe twenty. Babyfaced.

Once he sees the man clearly enough to be sure, he nods. Then he looks at the box and the box and the pouch. "They simply 'washed up'?" he queries, reaching to accept the box and the pouch. "Are there any reports of ships foundering nearby?" He orders, "Stay. I might need for you to take a message to the master of the docks. Even if I don't, you should have some reward for your trouble." He carries the items to a table nearby. He sets each items separately on the table and begins by studying the box, looking closely at it.

"Nay, nah quite. Was a bird - but since the poor thing didna survive, I put it in the box," Jeremy says. "The pouch was on its leg." Small as it is, that's not too hard to believe, at least. In the box, a homing pigeon, but it is dead, recently so. Seems to have run afoul of an arrow.

Caedmon carefully opens the box after hearing Jeremy's explanation. He frowns at the lifeless bird, and sighs. Then he closes the box. Turning from it, he loosens the string that cinches the pouch, and upends it so that its contents can fall onto the table.

The bird is just what it seems to be, a homing pigeon that has met a fell end. inside the pouch, somewhat soggy despite the attempts to keep it that way, is a message. The message starts off "To the king of Mobrin," and ends with "from Mantel, Captain, Stormrover." The Stormrover is one of the boats in Mobrin's fleet, sent off to guard against the Laniveer forces. The middle of the message has smeared, but the following words can be read, "Moniwid forces - Laniveer fleet - rescue. Coming to - repair."

After the scrap of parchment slides from the pouch, Caedmon picks it up carefully and spreads it flat on the table. He peers at the smeared writing, and frowns darkly. Then he leaves the table and goes to a desk. He unlocks a drawer and rummages in it for a moment before he closes and locks it again. From that desk, he strides to the door where Jeremy is waiting. "Here," he says, offering some coins. "You served well, Jeremy. I trust that you brought this to me as soon as it arrived."

Jeremy bobs his head, but he shakes his head at the offer of coins. "Oh, no, m'lord, no need for that. You give those to somewhat who needs work. I got a job, and my three squares." He nods resolutely. "This was - just what anyone would do." He bobs his head again, and then heads off.

Caedmon steps outside the door to see Jeremy off. " I'll see that the temple knows about your service, then," he answers. "They always need the coin to care for the orphans. You have my thanks!" Then he retreats again into his chambers to study the note further while he sends his servant with a note for the king.

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