Ah I've decided I have to research for this, I want it to be good, and as uh plausible as I can do... don't expect too much though haha!!! Could someone tell me who is Isolde??? I'm hoping that I'm not missing an important character.... To all the fanatics I might sound like a tard, but don't hate me for it, uh its more a learning experience... that's what I said when I got suspended from high school sooo it's a good enough excuse. :D
Dagonet sat with a marine merchant in the dimly lit Admiral's Pub on Neptune's Row. The marine merchant was Mr. Eton, who ran the shipping company Wislon & Bloom, but to the locals it was called Cheerful Credit. The man had ran many unwise businessmen or business-hopefuls or business-suckers into the slums of town and a many wise ones with that too. Dag knew however that he would not swindle him however. He had carefully planned out his arrangement and every possible outcome. He knew Mr. Eton too wise and that he would remember the line 'Daren't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs!' Dealings with Mr. Eton were however not necessary; there were a fair number of other merchants. One such that he particularly disliked, much like the rest, but that he had actually particularly remembered was a Mr. Woolwich. He was one of those merchants who were always trying to cheat the other, and make as much money as possible. He was one of those people who turn away and then suddenly dart back at you, like a dragonfly. He was an ugly, stiff-built little devil, the sort of cock-sparrow type of man that sticks his chest out and puts his hands under his coat-tails – the type that's be a sergeant-major only they aren't tall enough.
Somewhere between deciding on the crew and the cargo, and before the compromises and quarrelling over the money; an intolerable messenger interrupted the two conversing men in the most awkward of ways, evident that he was interrupting and either which way, not wanted.
"Uh, good sire," he said hesitantly, "good sire, please may I have a minute of your time. Please good sire."
"Yes go ahead. Quickly please." Replied Mr. Eton irritated already.
"Its for Lord Dagonet.
"Well then..." said Dag slowly.
"Oh yes of course, I have here a letter for you. Uh very urgent, very urgent indeed. From my master Lord Boars." He said, rushing the odd words and stammering over the easy ones.
On this last note Dag's eyes flickered up from the candle and to the messenger, "Thank-you." The messenger promptly placed the slightly soggy and worn roll of parchment in his one hand.
Dag quickly got up and put out his hand rolled cigarette. He took a couple of steps to the door and then took some back, then around the table and put the letter down. He took out another cigarette and lit it, puffing the smoke out quickly in an exasperated manner. He tapped his food on the floor quickly, the wheels in his head turning quickly.
He turned on the heal after a slight pause and walked out of the smoky, wine stained pub, scratching the back of his head.
The letter had been requesting his presence and confidence in an external attack on the county of the Lord Boars. What exactly had happened he did not know, but he did know that Boars would not request him without a full explanation if it was not important.
He quickly got a hold of his squire who prepared his pack for the two day travel by horseback, traveling lightly and by himself. As he mounted his brown thoroughbred horse, but swayed in the seat from too much drink and remounted once he had eaten enough bread to sober himself up more or less.
As he trotted out of the city gates he waved off to an incoming young messenger. He quickly sped to a gallop and off he went into the rocky and sparse terrain.
Soooo next chapter should be on... Gawain! But only as soon as I figure something interesting or and exciting for him to do or uh embark on or be thrown into... hmm or he could be the more or less not adventurous one... which could actually be good instead of everyone suddenly going on some quest. (I'd say that's coincidental but I am the author!!!)
(I take no credit to that amazing description in the first paragraph. It's actually straight out of the novel Coming Up for Air by the ever-so-brilliant George Orwell.)