The Warband of Wolves
The Inquisition
A fanfic based off the game:
Mount and Blade: Warband;
and my own fanfic.
By Indogma
Chapter Three
An Inn in Curaw
Roland sighed aloud as he luxuriously stretched his back before slouching back down in his chair. The day was surprisingly hot for a day in the fall of the Nordic Tundra, the snow had not yet reached this far outland yet and the land was suffering under an oppressive heat. A muggy lingering heat that tormented everyone used to the colder climate of this land, apart from some of the company of Wolves from southern climates like Ymira and Haydee. Roland however was not one of those people, and was drained of energy the very moment he awoke.
Even now he felt himself blanketed with sweat just from sitting on the chair, which made getting up from the Inn, even to explore the city, a foolish plan—at least for right now. Once the sun had reached its peak, it would begin to cool off, and then Roland would get up and do something. He wanted to pay the Lord of the castle a visit and talk to him about the local location of the Tundra bandit's lair, but the stifling heat made that trek seem on par with climbing over a mountain. So Roland was content to wait for the evening.
Ever since Roland and the Wolves took on the entire collection of Nordic raiders on the northern most coast, merchant caravans had complimented on how clear the roads were along the coast—for about a month. But with the picks aplenty in the north, the tundra bandits to the south filled in the gap and were now raiding the caravans. Roland was up north trying to solve the problem he had indirectly created.
Which would be good for the Wolves, the liberating of the village Iberan was anticlimactic, in a word. The farmer that had sought out the Wolves assistance rushed ahead to inform the town. The bandits caught wind of the news fled as soon as they saw the black surcoats of the troop, starting a half a day chase to run them down.
Although he was happy that the Wolves didn't have to enter the village, the chase that followed was tedious and a waste a time. Once the troop had spotted the bandits they charged only to slow down as the bandits threw down their weapons and surrendered. All of that effort wasted just to capture ten or so inexperienced bandits who were scared witless after the Wolves chased after them. No one was happy with that outcome.
Lucky the chase had caused the Wolves to be closer to Dhirim than Iberan; giving Roland an excuse to order the troop onward towards the city and leave the village behind while sending a messenger reporting the bandits captured—avoiding going into the village at all!
He dropped off the bandits with Count Delinard and headed north towards the tundra, where they had stopped in Curaw before continuing northward. And towards this Inquisition, so he could see it for himself. That had been the other reason he was heading north, to get a glance at this tower the Inquisition was building up. And what better place than the city where they were located.
He had seen the tower of cells that this Fergen had been building and had felt a cold chill down his spine once he saw it. He decided he hated it and wanted to see it destroyed. But now was not the time, he had the men but now was not the time to attack. He needed more information about them if he ever wanted to attack it.
And he had the perfect cover too. No one would suspect Roland and the Wolves to be lightly spying on the organization when there were Tundra Bandits roaming around.
Hence why Roland and the Wolves were now waiting at an Inn for a spell, well most of the Wolves actually. The Wolves who could stand the heat or had too much energy despite the weather were with Haydee dealing with a small band of greenhorn deserters charging a toll on the road between Curaw and Khudan. People said they were poorly armored and ill trained, meaning Roland could trust only a small fraction of his Wolves to take them on without much difficulty.
Roland let out another sigh before taking a sip from his mug, the liquid no longer cold but still refreshing. But it would not remain way for long, the heat made any sense of comfort evaporate in time. It did not help that he was bored. Normally Roland might have played a game with Jeremus of someone to get his mind off of the heat, but the Surgeon had gone with Haydee and the others, leaving Roland lacking in what he could play.
With his thirst momentarily quenched, the mercenary captain turned his senses to the patrons of the inn. Himself and the Wolves occupied most of the establishment's tables, although one would never know it by first glance. Nearly every one of the company had left their armor and dark surcoats in their rooms donning on the lightest and brightest clothing they had; at Roland's suggestion.
Other than the Wolves and the workers of the inn only two other group stood out, one lone figure, sitting by himself in a nearby corner reading a book, and trio of well dressed men sitting in the other corner of the inn, yet drawing everyone's attention towards them thanks to a heated argument. Eventually, they were scholars, boisterously arguing—well, only two of them were, the last member was a third wheel, unable to get a word in without the two ganging up on him to silence him.
"Ice is not a metal, that is why it can float!"
"Nonsense! Having it be a metal or not has nothing to do with how it floats, it all about the rules of nature! Metal cannot float because it is not supposed to, ice and wood can because it is supposed to!"
"Then what is with this "nonsense"?"
"You say it cannot float because of what is! That the fact it is metal means it cannot float! You say nothing about a rule of nature, about it's essence, and the fact the world does not allow it to float."
Roland could only shake his head, not at the subject matter but rather at the nit picky attitude the man was taking. If it was in between friends that was one thing but the two were actually getting upset at this debate.
The third man, finding his voice, added, "Perhaps it has nothing to do with nature."
"And what would you know of nature?" Said the nature enthusiast, "You're only a novice at the college!"
"But does that mean my ideas are any less valid?"
"It means they have no connection to our studies! You've got to study for years before you can know what you are taking about, and with the right people."
"But what about other people? I mean a smith would know more about metal than we would."
"A smith wouldn't know his left hand from his right!" replied the other man, eager to dismiss this idea.
"And how would we know stuck in the college all day?" The younger scholar countered. "I knew a smith—"
"Who put this damned idea into your head it sounds like!" The second scholar sneered.
"How about we test this theory, eh?" The man looked around the inn to search for a suitable target. "Him," the man settled on pointing to Roland of all people. "Why not him? He looks agreeable?"
Is that a nice way of saying I look stupid? Roland thought to himself. The mercenary captain did not want to be drawn into this petty debate, but thinking about it quickly it was not that surprising. Roland and the other man in the corner were the only ones by themselves in this inn, meaning they had no visible conspirators to consult or talk them out of it. And between the choice of the man clearly reading a book and the other drinking, the smartest choice—ironically—was to pick Roland.
"Ask him if he could teach us a thing or to. Go on!"
"I don't think—"
"Then I'll do it! You!"
Roland lazy met the man's eyes, "Yes?"
"Would you help us out with a question?"
"Depends on what sort it is," Roland said dryly.
"Well come over here, so we don't have to yell."
Roland begrudgingly rose from his chair and walked over to the trio. "What is it I'm supposed to help you with."
"Actually," the second one said, "We were hoping you could impress us in someway."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Our naïve colleague here claims that we can learn from anyone. And we wanted to see if that was true." He turned his gazed from the young scholar towards Roland, keeping the dismissive glaze on his face. "Can you?"
"Like what?" Roland asked aloofly, still unwilling to partake in this stupid test.
"Anything that we did not know before." Offered the first.
"Maybe something about density," teased the second.
"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that." Roland lied hoping they would leave him alone.
"Surely you must know something," replied the first scholar. "Any little thing that might have a little significance—" he smile wryly, "If you cannot understand that: "significance" means something important."
"I know what it means," Roland replied annoyed.
"Is that so?" The second one said. "Yet you know nothing that we could learn from."
"Nothing you would find interesting," Roland said turning away from the table and the challenge.
"See?" said the first scholar to the novice. "You cannot learn anything form a nitwit like them."
"Actually," Roland said turning suddenly and without thinking. "I can make a piece of iron float."
Why did I say that? Roland rebuked himself. Maybe it was the cider he had been drinking that clouded his judgment, the pleading look on the younger scholar's face, like he was praying for a miracle, or maybe Roland just wanted to wipe the smug smile off of the two scholar's faces. It might have been all or none of these ideas that drove Roland to involving himself whole-heartedly into this tussle of "educated minds."
"You're lying." The first scholar said. "No one can make a scrape of iron float."
"I can make something smaller then a piece of scrap," smiled Roland now fully committed to this. "I will make a needle float."
"Impossible," said the other scholar, (rather clichély too).
"How much would you be willing to bet?" Roland prompted, feeling that if was going to disprove these two scholars he might as well get some gold as well. "If it is 'impossible' as you say, then you've got nothing to lose."
"One Denari," the first scholar bet dismissively, "Can you afford that?" the scholar sneered.
Roland's smile brightened, a small profit if this trick worked but he felt pushing the bet's price up would scare the scholars away. He wanted to prove them wrong and the best way to do that was to get them invested in this bet. So he would play the poor loner at the inn.
He turned to the youngest scholar, "Could I borrow a coin?" Roland had left his coin pouch up in his room under guard with the rest of the Wolves' armor, plus it added to the image the two senior scholars had already thought of him.
The man nervously stared at Roland who gave a confident smile and a subtle wink. Reluctantly, the young scholar pulled out a coin and plopped it on the table. The bet was made.
"Now," said the first scholar folding his arms, "Show us how you can make a needle float."
"I will need a few things before I do," Roland said, "Keep the money here and I will be back." With the bet made between the four of them, Roland went up to his room and collected a handful of coins before setting off through Curaw to find what he needed.
The mercenary captain came back with three things: a iron needle, a bowl and a piece of paper.
The bowl was filled with water and the scholars gathered around it to watch what Roland did next. He put the paper in the center of the filled bowl, and then, very carefully, laid the needle on the top of the paper. Soon the paper began to sink towards the bottom of the bowl, but the needle remained on the surface of the water.
As much as Roland would like to have thought he had thought of this, the truth was he had seen this done before. In his elementary school back on earth, a teacher had done this trick to demonstrate density to them. But when one get's teleported to a medieval world with little indoor plumbing tricks like this become wonderful way to make money.
"I believe I have made my point," Roland said holding out his hand to take the coin he was promised. "Now how about that coin?"
"I will not," said the first scholar outraged beyond belief. "It was sheer luck that the needle does not sink."
"Shall I try it again?" Roland offered.
"No," said the second, equally offended, "I do not trust you to handle the needle."
"Then what about your fellow scholar here?" Roland gestured towards the novice. "If he could do it, then I think that would be enough proof."
Before the two senior scholars could confer with each other, Roland had removed the needle from the water and handed it to the novice.
Following Roland's example, the young man was able to get the needle to float as well to the other scholar's dismay.
"Trickery!" the first scholar declared standing up knocking his chair out form under him. "This is a trick! It has no scientific value!"
"I promised the needle would float," Roland countered.
"Damn what you promised! This is a trick and it is nothing of value?"
"And pray tell," came a smooth voice from outside the circle of people, "How do you know that without pondering on it?" All four of them turned and saw the man in the corner who had been reading to himself joining them, his eyes fixated on the bowl and the needle. "It seems like you are coming to conclusions without giving them time to be explained."
"But it was a trick," argued the first scholar.
The newcomer said nothing to counter. Instead he removed the needle from the water and repeated the steps Roland had done. When the result was the same, the man gave a chuckle, "This seems more then just a trick to me if I can do it without difficulty."
"But it's—"
"It's not what you thought? What you believed all of these years?" The man said turning towards the scholar. "Is that why you cannot accept this?"
The scholar said nothing, but could only stare at the man defiantly.
The man turned back towards the bowl, "I do not know what causes this, but all that I do know is that this man kept his promise," he looked towards Roland, "And I believe you two owe him a coin. Each."
The two scholars exchanged a final look. The second one was quicker in pulling out his purse and placing his bet on the table, the first needed to be stared down by the man and the second's prompting before he could even reach for his money bag. But he eventually did to place his part of the bet on the table, and stormed out of the inn to receive the heat of the day, his companion following him.
Roland collected the two coins and jingled them in his hand, contemplating what he should do with them. He turned and saw the young scholar watching the needle float in the water still.
"How did you do this?" He asked Roland suddenly.
The mercenary captain shrugged, "It was a trick I learned form a teacher that I had."
"So it is a trick," the scholar said disappointed.
"Maybe it is," said the other man, "But can you explain why the needle remains floating?"
"No, I guess I can't."
"Then I guess you look into it," replied the man. "Isn't it part of your profession to answer these sort of questions?"
"I guess it is," the scholar said.
"Then take the bowl, needle and this," Roland said handing him the two coins. "I'm sure you will need them more then me."
"Are you sure?" The scholar asked.
"Of course," Roland said smiling. "Two coins mean nothing to me, and I have no need for a needle."
The scholar grabbed Roland's hands and gave a giant smile, "Thank you!"
Roland merely nodded and left the scholar to collect everything. In the Youngman's haste, he forgot the bowl was full of water and as he rushed out of the door the liquid spilled all over his clothing.
With the three scholars gone from the inn, Roland turned to look at this mysterious man. He was all with long brown hair gathered at the back of his head. "I'm not sure who you are, but thank you."
"It was nothing," the man said. "But I have to admit what you did," he cracked a smile, "was the best dressing down of a scholar I've seen in years."
"Thank you," Roland smiled.
"Would you mind joining me at my table?" The man said gesturing towards his table with the book on it. "I've read enough for one day and would prefer company that can talk back."
Roland gave a brief nod, he too felt like he would enjoy some company.
"I hope you do not think too evil of those scholars," the man said. "They believe they know everything and are not often proven wrong by people who they see as underneath them."
"It makes that third scholar all the more rare then," Roland commented.
"Indeed it does," the man agreed, "And all the better for it in my opinion."
"He certainly learned something from me today," Roland smiled.
"I was meaning to ask you about that," the man admitted, "Do you know how you did that."
"I just put a needle on top of a piece of paper," Roland replied.
"I'm not asking what you did, I'm asking do you know why it floats."
"Ah," Roland grunted. In truth, he knew enough to be dangerous. The trick he had preformed he remembered vividly from elementary school, but the explanation as to its causation was hazy in his mind. Besides, this was dangerous ground he was walking one what with in Inquisition propping about for witches. Knowing too much was just asking for trouble. "No I do not," Roland said.
"But is seems odd you'd show them a mere trick without knowing the explanation."
"I did it because it fit in with what they were talking about earlier," Roland replied. 'They mentioned something about iron not floating, which helped me remember the trick."
Roland looked up and watched the man's reaction to his explanation. He seemed unmoved, as he looked at the mercenary captain, making Roland doubt his words made any sense.
"I suppose that's understandable," the man shrugged suddenly surprisingly. "Although I do find that hard to believe you would know the trick without the reason behind it."
Roland shrugged, "If there was one I cannot remember it."
"Ah well," the man sighed. "'Tis a shame… uh," he tried to call Roland by his name. "I don't think we introduced ourselves." He held out his hand, "My friends call me Jesen."
"Roland," he said taking the hand.
"The Roland of the Wolves?" Jesen queried.
"The same," Roland smiled.
"Well this is a surprised. I would have expected to see you in your black surcoats."
"Not in this heat," Roland smiled.
"Why is that?"
"Because I've noticed wearing darker colors in the heat tends to make things hotter. When the Wolves were in the desert I noticed most of the men who collapsed from heat exhaustion had their black surcoats on, when the men who had taken them off seemed fine in the heat. So I ordered all of my men to take them off. After that not one man collapsed."
"So all of these people are your Wolves?" Jesen asked. Roland nodded. "What brings you to Curaw?"
"Hunting for Bandits mostly," Roland replied, "We've heard that the Tundra has been over run with them. So we are here to help clear them out. What about you?"
"Oh, just business," Jesen said cryptically. "I must apologize for my vagueness, but I do not like to share my business with strangers." He smiled, "No matter how good of company they are."
"I understand," Roland said giving the man his privacy. "Might I ask what you have been reading."
"Oh," Jesen said looking at his book. "Just a collection of studies on the stars."
"What do they say?" Roland asked.
"Are you an astronomer?" Jesen queried.
"I like to look up at them," Roland said cheerfully.
"Then I fear you would not understand it," Jesen dismissed.
"Try me," Roland smiled. "I might understand more than you think."
So Jesen did, and to Roland's credit the mercenary captain did understand more than he would have suspected. Occasionally the merc did require an explanation on a technical detail or two. Eventually the hot afternoon fell into evening, and Roland realized his time to visit the local lord was fading fast.
"I need to be leaving," Roland said suddenly.
"Yes," Jesen agreed, also looking at the orange sky, "I'm sorry to say I must be going as well."
They shook hands one last time, both happy to have met each other to pass the time away this hot day.
Outside they both took separate ways. Roland, had donned on his black surcoat of the Wolves and headed towards the center of the city were the castle was, while Jesen had turned towards the city gate carrying a surcoat himself and his book on the stars.
When Jesen reached the gate he met with several men on horseback waiting at the gate for him. All of them were equipped with plate armor over their white surcoats and helmets, apart from one of them, the leader of the group, a blonde haired man with a third of his ear gone.
"Are you ready, Minda?"
"Aye Mi'lord Fergen," the man nodded.
"Did you catch anyone?" Jesen Fergen asked mounting his horse.
"Just a fat one Sir." He gave a wicked smile, "He seemed scared to death when we caught him."
"Have much trouble?" Fergen asked leading the group out of the city.
"No, apart from a Wolf who wanted him dead."
"Not friends with the wildlife was he?" Fergen japed.
"I mean the Mercs the Wolves. We ran into one who said he wanted him for himself."
Fergen stopped his horse suddenly. "Do you know who it was?"
"Uh, no Sir. I can't remember what he looked like either."
"Hm, I see." Fergen said disappointed. "What did he say he wanted him for?"
"Revenge. Apparently the man attacked him."
"Ah," Fergen grunted. "Well that makes sense. But he's in the tower."
"Aye, Sir. He'll be ready for you to question him when we get back."
"Good," Fergen smiled. Suddenly he looked down on his chest and put on the white surcoat with the black eye on it. "Now that's done, we better start for Praven. King Harlaus will be expecting us."
-End Notes-
My apologies for the length of time it took for this chapter to be written. It's been a strange time for me transitioning out of school and into the real world. Is it too late to go under my covers and hide?
Anyway, the needle and water trick is actually something Galileo did when he was experimenting with density. I remember seeing it in the play about him, so if I am mistaken: blame the play not me, please?
Thanks again for your views.
Cheers,
Indogma.