"The Dämmerlichtreiter," the man breathes.
You blink in surprise at him. "The what now?" You had been prepared for all sorts of reactions, but not calling you that.
He stares, wild-eyed, pointing accusingly. "You! The Rider of Dusk! The woman who rides the coming of night across Stirland, bringing ruin to the enemies of the Hunter-Count!"
You stare back, and a delighted smile spreads across your face. "I mean... gosh. I hadn't realized people had been noticing. The Rider of Dusk? That's... wow." You bask for a moment, but duty calls. "Anyway. Not why I'm here."
The man's hand edged toward his sword, but an indecisive moment later away from it. "I will not resist the will of Stirland."
"What? No, I mean, yes, technically, but I'm not here to arrest you or anything. In fact, go ahead and rob them, they haven't paid taxes since '62. I'm here to offer you a job."
The man thinks that over, and relaxes somewhat. "Okay. What's the item?"
We have a reputation! We're basically the Dark Horseman legend!
And this guy is a patriot for all he's a thief, interestingly.
The man sits at your table as you work your way through your morning sausages. You glance across at him as you chew. Jack Albright, career thief and a damn good one at that. Originally of Marienburg, but attracted too much attention to himself and now on a protracted tour of the Empire. Charismatic, well-travelled, skilled in a variety of thieving arts and possessing of strong morals. You smile across at him. "Good morning. You look tired."
"I didn't sleep well," he mutters.
"The night before an interview," you nod understandingly. "Don't be too put out with your Fence. He would have warned you if he had remembered me." You smile at the wild-eyed look you get from him. "So, I take it you've heard of news with the Watch?"
He looks around the inn nervously - it's usually crowded, but not this early, and there's nobody within earshot. He lowers his voice anyway. "You're fighting the War Below."
"The War Below," you say musingly. Overly dramatic name for fighting against vermin and smugglers, but it has a nice ring to it. "The Watch is looking for an new leader. Ideally, someone with the creativity and inside knowledge to bring it success as it expands across Stirland."
"You want me to betray those I work with," he mutters.
"If I thought you would, you wouldn't be worth hiring. Besides, I envision the Watch as an organization with it's attention elsewhere." As you talk, you dip a finger in your mug of small beer and draw an X on the table. Jack looks down at it thoughtfully as you wipe your mouth with a napkin, and then you place the napkin atop the X. "There are many threats to the good order of Stirland and the Empire, and a few thieves are the very least of them."
"I... think I understand," he says.
"Good. I'll give you some time to think it over - I've got to interview another candidate in Steinbachthal tomorrow morning, so if you're willing drop by my townhouse the day after, where I'll be receiving visitors." He stares at you, likely mentally calculating the distances, and you smile again. Being a wizard was so fun, sometimes. "Have a nice day."
So important parts.
-This guy knows about the Skaven.
-This guy knows how thieves think and can counter them
-This guy ALSO is reluctant to stamp out specific thieves(note theres no national thieves guild, so loyalties aren't universal)
The candidate in Steinbachthal is another story entirely, much less awed and more morose. Jacques Seingalt sits in the tavern, already half-drunk despite it barely being lunchtime, and barely reacts when you introduce yourself. "And what," he says in the overly-clear diction of someone concentrating to keep from slurring, tinged with a faint Tilean accent, "does the Spymistress of Stirland want with a fired castle guard?"
"To offer him a job," you say, and he perks up slightly at that. "The Stirland Watch is expanding, and needs a new leader. When I'd heard you'd been released from your duties, I decided to come see you for myself."
He straightens himself in his seat. "Then you have fine taste in employees. I am Jacques Seingalt, duellist, doctor, and leader of men, famed across the Old World for my abilities."
You'd heard similar. His career had begun in the mercenary bands of Tilea, before he befriended a travelling Bretonnian knight and went with him back to that strange land and lead forces of men-at-arms against the greenskins ravaging the countryside in the unhappy aftermath of the disastrous Errantry War that wiped out a generation of Bretonnian knights. Since then he has travelled the length of the Old World, leading men of every nation against every enemy of mankind. It would be a mystery why he had settled for a lowly position as leader of a Count's household guard, if you didn't know well the full story. "I had heard as much. Would you be willing to perform this role?"
He drains his tankard thoughtfully. "Normally I am dismissive of petty thief-takers, but rumour has spread of your ambitions for the Watch, how they spread across Western Stirland, how they protect even the smallest villages and ride forth to purge banditry from the countryside. This may be a suitable roll for one of my skills; I will ride with you back to Wurtbad."
You conceal a smile. "I think you will find it difficult to keep up."
He scoffs. "No man, nor woman for that matter, can match me in the saddle."
You end up impressed that it only takes him a week longer than you to arrive in the capital.
This guy meanwhile:
-Dismissive of investigative/thief taking work
-Martial hero, his reputation is good enough that I'd kind of want to recommend him to Van Hal as Gustav's aide. He'd cover the holes.
-Cavalry specialist, but the Watch hardly does any
Still, at least Asarnil seems to be enjoying himself. He appears to be treating the operation as a massive hunt, with the armies acting as beaters to flush the undead out of wherever they were hiding so he could dive upon them - a symbiosis the troops are completely fine with. And the local shepherds who are flooding into the newly-cleansed hills with their herds have taken to sending sheep as tribute to Deathfang, the mighty jade-green dragon, who feasts on fresh mutton every evening surrounded by awed soldiers who play music on carved wooden pipes and kettledrums and crude mandolins in impromptu orchestras for him.
Well, it seems like he's having fun and our troops are liking the idea of having a dragon nuke the undead once they lure those out...
Asarnil himself is less taken with the crowds, and broods in his massive tent alone each evening. He's occupied with buffing his armour with a cloth, but turns as you enter with a scowl and his mouth open to deliver a cutting rebuke, but upon seeing you he stops, surprised. "That manner of dress - why, you're one of Teclis' little ones!"
You're rather taken aback at that. "I- well, I am part of the Colleges of Magic, yes-"
"I'm so glad that you're still doing well. Which of them are you? Wait, don't tell me, you must be one of the Grey ones, right? Ulgu?"
"Yes, I am of the Grey Order."
"So few believed it would work, but Teclis proved them all wrong. And didn't Finubar hate that! He didn't even have the bravery to forbid one of those two brothers from doing what they pleased, but he predicted such ruin, and yet here you are."
I...did not expect him to be THIS enthusiastic about it.
"He taught you something of our language as well, didn't he? Is that still being passed down? Of course, not the proper thing, but a few words to use like we would use Anoqeyån."
"Ulgunar kirior onai Tar-Eltharin, caladai-eldoir-kurn," you retort, and he stares at you, quite surprised.
"I haven't heard-" he breaks off, and almost haltingly continues in Eltharin. "I have not heard the tongue of the True Elves in close to two centuries."
"If it would please you, I would be happy to converse with you in it," you respond.
"Of course!" he stops, and looks frustrated with himself. "Of course. I would like that very much."
The two of you talk for some time on the progress of the campaign, not touching on anything of any consequence but the elf seems to almost draw sustenance from hearing his language spoken, although he corrects your pronunciation a few times. And then you make your offer to him; though the scholar that was brought was inadequate for the task, you would be honoured to immortalize his campaigns in the Old World. He happily agrees - apparently it was Anton's unthinking comment of 'gosh, this should be written down so everyone could hear it' had planted the thought in him that some record of his acts should be made, to preserve his legacy in the unlikely event that he ever encounters something capable of striking him down.
Anton you goddamned cinnamon roll!
So seems like while Asarnil would never admit it, he's feeling pretty homesick. So much that even an upjumped monkey speaking his native tongue helped relieve him immensely.
Week after week passes and parchment accumulates as one hundred and seventy-three years of battle are preserved in ink, beginning with the Battle of the Siren's Rocks that destroyed the entire naval fleet of Miragliano and ended them as a naval power and only growing from there, stopping only for you to sleep and for Asarnil to perform his duties in the Hills, though Deathfang takes to going off without him to keep himself occupied.
Deathfang: "This is boring, Asarnil you stay and finish getting your ego stroked, I'm going to go fry some zombies"
The stories continue. A thousand battles, tens of thousands of skirmishes, hundreds of thousands dead by claw and flame and sword and lance, every one of which bought at an exorbitant price. He has fought for every realm of Man in the Old World from Kislev to Araby, for the mysterious elves of Athel Loren, for the lizard-people of the Southlands, and strangest of all, for dwarves.
He shrugs at that. "I understand what it is to hold a grudge against the Phoenix King." Fair enough, you suppose.
In the end, you've got an enormous and unruly pile of parchment containing the Dragonlord's account of every battle he has fought as a Mercenary. Asarnil claps you on the shoulder, dons his helm, and walks out of the tent to rejoin the campaign.
[Purge progress: Roll, 30.]
[Befriending the elf: Req 70, Diplomacy, 93+7+10 (Likes Wizards)=110.]
[Writing the stories: Roll, Learning, 51+17+10 (reader of tales)+10 (Ranald's Blessing=88.]
Ranald: "Trolling the Phoenix King is in my interests."
We got his respect, and that's pretty good. Maybe he'd drop by every so often if he gets in the mood, or at least be easier to hire if we want a dragon superheavy.
The cost of three copies is nominal, and for the selling, there'll be a first edition to see if it sells and a second edition to meet the perceived demand and a third edition only if there's still an untapped market. There's a chance of it being non-profitable but it's not going to clean you out.
The printing press has been around for a while but has only spread into the Empire recently, and so far it's more of a novelty than a societal game-changer, though it's definitely been a big part of life in Altdorf's academia. Vanity publishing is a thing in Tilea, not so much in the Empire.
If we're lucky that sounds like a pretty penny. Hard to gauge though. It's both dramatic as hell to appeal to literate burghers and apprentice wizards, while, if believed, a pretty valuable cultural and strategy study material for the more insightful noble.
Yes, she wouldn't be considering it if it would offend your new dragon-riding buddy. He wanted a copy in Etharnil for is own purposes, but he doesn't mind if you sell it in Reikspiel too - it'd be good advertising.
Hmm...sounds like he plans to mail his copy back to Ulthuan. As an elf lord he's not really going to consider sending copies to the Colleges or even widespread human publishing to be properly immortal.
The ones who matter are the true immortals, and that'd probably be why he wants it scribed in Etharnil.
[ ] Hand them over to him in their current form; he would be fine with this, and would take his own actions with them.
Give him a bundle of raw notes, he gets it scribed and bound in his own time. Minimal effort, but he's not expecting anything.
[ ] Have a scribe transfer them into book form - one copy for you, one for the Imperial College, one for Asarnil.
Properly bound handwritten books, one for our collection one for posterity, one for the dragonlord. Books stay obscure.
[ ] Hire some printing press time and a translator, and start selling Reikspiel versions to anyone who's interested.
Try to make some money out of it. We actually do have the private funds to manage this, at least, two printings
[ ] Hire some printing press time and find a merchant willing to ship and sell as many copies as they can to Ulthuan.
The longshot. Ranald freaking approves of trolling Finubar AND making money aong the way. Might actually sell better, elves are more likely to be interested in the tales than humans(who'd probably dismiss a lot of it as fiction)
If you mean when voting ends, 24 hours after the post, same as the other items.
I think he means how many votes are needed for any particular line to pass.
[X] Jack Albright, career criminal.
[X] Have a scribe transfer them into book form - one copy for you, one for the Imperial College, one for Asarnil.
[X] Hire some printing press time and a translator, and start selling Reikspiel versions to anyone who's interested.
[X] Hire some printing press time and find a merchant willing to ship and sell as many copies as they can to Ulthuan.
[X] Plan Get Stuck In
So going with Jack, since Jacques is not really much good(and outright dismissive) of the investgative and security elements. He'd make a good candidate for a Roadwarden based Watch, but Jack is the one you want for the Underground War and Intelligence Gathering.
Hoping for some developments in investigation techniques, Jack has a bunch more sidewise thinking than the typical unimaginative veteran we recruit. Neither one is actually good for putting down thieves, Jacques lacks the skills and is outright dismissive of the endeavor, while Jack has some lingering personal attachments(we'll see how it goes in a few years though, people change, and having thieves be a negative performance rating on his record would sting)
As for Get Stuck In...basiclally what I'd have voted for anyways.
