Coming Ashore

[Marqués del Stry]

"The north side! Quick! It's not going to hold out!"

"Get them out of there!"

Curses flew from the mouthed of the men as the four alarm fire that roared down the vineyard burst into high flames when the fire reached the vats of stored wine in the shed. Wood and metal debris went in all directions. Dark purple smoke hung thick in the air along with the heavy scent of grapes. Across the field there was a loud crack, as the manor house -now a blazing inferno- continued to collapse.

Three firefighter units had been called to put out the blaze at the Stry Vineyard. A little over a hundred acres of property it was one of the largest vineyards in Northern Rhydin, with shipments and trades across the land and overseas. The effort of the firefighters was in vain for the fire burned with an unnatural ferocity. Quick, hot, the flames consumed everything in its path.

"Hold it men. Keep it tight, it's loosing strength!" That's how it appeared to Fire Captain James Carney. Thirty years on the force and he had only seen a blaze like this once before. Magical in it’s nature, there was seemingly nothing to be done to douse the flames. The fire had been going on for three hours and only now was showing signs of abating. One thing was for certain, this was no accidental fire. It was arson.


He couldn't stay in the vineyard, he had to get over to the manor house and see if anyone had been rescued. Large and able to house the Lords family and servants, it had been the first to go up in flames. It had been quick; and it had been sudden. Most of the household had been inside -including the Lord's wife who was seven months pregnant.

The mixed din of fire hoses, weeping, commands issuing from everywhere, together smoke and dust, made for a chaotic scene at the manor. There were around the trucks, others were on the ground; all of them sharing oxygen mask and inhalers. Firefighters digging through the rubble, pulling people out as they sound them. Some were alive. Others were dead. There were more injured than the medics could handle.

"Move it! Out of my way!" Captain Carney pushed through the mass, his large form working like a bulldozer.

"She's over here Captain."

Following the direction of his First Sergeant, Carney saw his officer standing around an ambulance and medical team. Laid out on a stretcher - eyes closed and blood over her features - was the Lady of the manor. Her thin Elfish frame was a mess. There was a large gash to the forehead, a broken leg with the bone breaking through the flesh; and her round stomach had been cut open.

"She was dead when we pulled her out of the debris. The ceiling caved on her, probably while she was trying to escape. We tried to--"

Carney stopped his Sergeant; there was no need for him to continue. He knew that they had tried to save the baby.

"Did any of the workers see anything?"

"Captain," The Sergeant left and lead over one if the servants. Hunched over under a dark blanket she would have been pretty if not for the soot and fearful expression that adorned her features. "This woman says she saw six figures, tall looking and large, on the outskirts a few minutes before the fires started.

"Take care of her, the Lord will want to talk with her." A sigh and he pulled a shroud over the lifeless body of the Lady Stry. If only they had been able to get her out in time.

The Lord was going to be furious.

When the Marques del Stry retuned home later that evening and found his house burned, and his mate dead, he had been way beyond furious and vowed revenge upon whoever was responsible. A few suspects had come to mind, organizations, and he was going to root them out.

That had been a little over a year ago.

Since then clean up and repair had been going on at the Manor estate and he had gone traveling, following the leads, taking out the opposition, and forming new allies. All of it handled under the guise of legitimate dealings.

But now he was back in Rhydin. The work on the house nearly complete and, more importantly, those who had set out to destroy him had been tracked back to Rhydin.

It was time to get started. As he stood at the docks, dressed in a fine tailored suit of dark purple and black, one question came to mind: Where was Leo?

[Leo]

Where was Leo? Leo was running late.

Having spent time in the Inn to help out a new arrival he had cut into his time by sixty percent. That was the equivalent of an hour. An hour that he did not have for it would take him that long to get to the docks. He didn't regret helping the young lady at all. He knew what it was like to be a bit down on luck.

If he was going to be late then there was no need in rushing to be any later. Leo didn't want to run - he would only ruin his clothes by making them all sweaty, and end up flustered in giving his presentation. That was something he couldn't have. Since he didn't want to be dreadfully late he went to the Inns stables, looking to see if they had a pair of horses that he could borrow for his venture.

Inside the stable was a stable hand and Leo explained his predicament and the boy directed him to a pair of horses. He decided to not be overly particular about their breed and appearance. They were kept well and they would do. The horses were saddled, he mounted and was off, the other horse being led.

What had not occurred to him until just now was the fact that he had gotten them rooms at an Inn run by Elves - two of the owners were elven at least - and, with what had happened to the Marqués' family, he was not sure that this fact would bode well.

When he arrived at the docks it was well into the afternoon (if he had known that New Haven had a dock he would have instructed him to port there instead of the main port in town.) Hitching the horses on the line he went looking for his boss.

[Marqués del Stry]

(This post is a collaboration. So all my understand, a translation to spanish text is included at the bottom.)

"Tell me about this Inn where you have acquired rooms."

The Marqués had met up with Leo around early evening at the docks and from there they had gone to a nearby tavern for food and a bit of catching up. There was a lot to tell - mostly about his local business. For a change, Leo was very talkative, except when it came to details about the Inn.

Leo stirred the spoon around his hot drink. "The Tanner has removed his daughters from your service. Said there was a threat against him or some sort for being in your employ."

"Verdad?" This was a detail that had been left out in the communications they had had. The Tanner's daughters were two of his best. "He knows that leaving my employ is not that easy."

"I told him you wouldn't be happy."

"I'm not." Stating the obvious, though his dissatisfaction would not be picked up by the people around them. Maintaining appearance was a priority for him. To anyone it looked as what it was: two men talking over drinks. "We will go there before we arrive at the Inn. The Inn which you will now tell me about."

The stern tone a contradiction to the softness of his eyes. If he had not been with the Marqués for as long as he had, he might not have taken him seriously. But he knew and it always made him nervous.

What was he to tell him? Just saying the name of the Inn would let the Marqués know that the place was Elven - or in the very least Elven influence. To tell him now, or to tell him later. Here in public would be best.

"The Inn is named Tel'Ranaemyn, the --"

"I know what it means." the Marqués cut Leo short; the softness which had been in his eyes a moment ago was gone. They were hard, cold, and piercing directly to the man in front of him. "¿Tu recuerda el año pasado? ¿El fuego? ¿Los asesinatos? ¿La muerte de mi esposa y niño?"(1)

It was never a good sign when his boss started speaking in spanish to him. It usually meant that the man was growing hot under the collar. His voice has raised and it attracted momentary attention from the people around them. "Now Señor...English. Remember your temper."

"¡Déjeme en paz!"(2) The Marqués turned his eyes away from Leo and scrubbed his hand over his face. Elves. He had a dislike for them ever since the attack last year. He knew that they had a part in it and now he was going to stay at a place with a n elvish name. With the name, there had to be elven workers.

Could they be trusted?

Nothing was exchanged between the two men. Neither spoke, and neither looked at the other. Each was left to his own thoughts and contemplations. Then the Marqués sighed and pushed his chair back, getting up.

"Vamos. We see the Tanner first."

---

^{1."Do you remember last year? The fire? The murders? The death of my wife and child?"
2."Leave me alone."}

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