Citizens of Freiburg part IV

by Borstennskoldmund

I don't know what is going on around here! I've only been away from Drachenheim manor for a couple of days, and now it seems we had changed sides!

I've been down at the Vendel quarter posing as "Lord Guilden", ordering a whole lot of expensive goods with no downpayment; anyone that asked for one I screamed at "Don't you know who I am! Lord Guilden's word is all you need for downpayment!", if they still refused (not many did), I'd walk off in a huff, maybe kicking over a stall or two. Will be fun to hear what happens when all of these goods arrive at the now empty rooms I rented for the couple of days!

Well, anyway, I'm wandering back to Drachenheim manor, and what piece of gossip do I hear! Baron Drachenheim and his friends have hosted a debauched evening of "entertainment" for their friend Herr Erhart before his upcoming wedding! "This can't be", I said to the gossip-monger in the market, "That pig von Tannen, and his goody-two-shoes friends would never have been seen making merry with good old Erhart and his ilk. And besides, surely if a stag party was to be held for Erhart, I, the famous Lord Guilden would have been invited!".

"No, sir" came the reply, "It was definitely von Tannen, and that don Carlos fellow from Castille, I saw them coming out of the Gilded Lily with my own two eyes... Well at least that's what my sister Helga saw anyway..."

I kicked the crone's apple cart over and headed off with a scowl on my face.

Ducking down a dark alley, I removed my Vendel wig, shook out my lovely braided hair and changed quickly into my normal clothes, glad to be Borstennskoldmund once more.

I made my way back to the manor, and find the mood is rather sullen. Well, except for Pistol, who seemed his normal jolly self. "I can't believe what I just heard out on the street" I said. "Someone has been paying gossips to besmirch our names. Especially yours Franz." Franz said nothing, but that wasn't all that unusual. "Would you believe they are saying that we are going to parties with Erhart?"

"Oh yes" replied Pistol cheerfully, "We had a wow of a time, but it was all a ruse to gather information on the bastard." Franz looked even more sullen than usual. Even don Carlos was quiet.

I was aghast.

Giancarlo decided to leave for a while, I asked him to drop off a few coins to the apple cart gossip to cover the damage I'd done in Lord Guilden's name, and he left promptly.

The quiet tension was broken a few minutes later when a knock at the door was followed by Armin coming in with a parcel for Pistol. Pistol unwrapped the parcel to reveal a lovely purple hat, with a pretty feather. What a lovely gift! But Pistol seemed oddly ill-at-ease, refusing to touch the hat. "I didn't accept it! It's not mine! Give it back!". Armin explained that the gift came from a stranger - a tall, dark fellow with an accent similar to Pistol's, and a patch over one eye.

The hat was accompanied by a short letter thanking Pistol for accepting this gift of a hat. Pistol seemed horrified. "We have to find him and give it back!" The reason for this was not apparent, but it seemed like an amusing excursion, and the mood in the room had suddenly lifted with Pistol's antics, so we agreed to help him search for his unknown benefactor.

The letter had a scribes sigil at the bottom of it. Pistol had a friend who
was a scribe, so we decided to go and find him to see if he could assist us. We met up with Hans Guttenburg at a pub, St. Gregor's Cup. They seemed to be playing quite an amusing game there. Each of the patrons in turn would wander up to the bar saying things like "Bless me, it's been three days since my last drink." And the publican would reply, "Hmmm, you've been quite bad, for your penance take three ales", and would promptly place said ales in front of the patron, who would proceed to quaff them at a rather rapid rate.

As we arrived, Pistol's friend Hans was partaking of a glass of ale proscribed for a lack of drinking in the past ten minutes. I decided to get into the spirit of things, and said "Bless me, it's been six months since my last drink!". The bar went quiet for a short moment before the publican proscribed a jug full of a clear sweet smelling liquor he called Schnapps. It wasn't ale, but I quaffed it all the same. The others joined in also, but warily quoting more reasonable periods of abstinance. I was fairly soon quite blotto.

Hans didn't appear to be of much assistance, not recognising the sigil. But then he didn't appear to be in much of a condition to recognise anything at all. Pistol then led us to an establishment called the Steamed Kettle, where I decorated a vase with Schnapps surprise. Pistol meanwhile discussed the sigil with a fellow called Marcus, who if I recall correctly was suffering from the lack of a left leg.

Marcus directed us to a fellow called Frank Spencer at a place called the Drachen's Toe. We proceeded there, and caught up with Spencer, and after some persuasion, discovered that the tall fellow who provided Pistol with the hat would be one "Gentleman Jim". Co-incidentally or not, we noticed a sign near a door leading to the basement that revealed that this same Gentleman Jim was the star attraction at an event currently being held downstairs.

We proceeded downstairs to where a crowd parted to allow a stretcher to carry out a poor fellow who had obviously been given quite a beating. We then discovered that the event was in fact a boxing tourney, with Gentleman Jim taking on all comers. Knowing that Pistol had some experience in pugilistic affairs, we pushed him forwards. Gentleman Jim turned to see us, and a broad grin crossed his face.

"Oh no," said Pistol "It's Bad Bob!".

Apparently Bad Bob aka Gentleman Jim is a former acquaintance of our friend Pistol. It seems some time back that Bob and Pistol were accomplices in an enterprise that earned the ire of the Montaigne customs officials. In fact Pistol is still wanted by Montaigne customs over the affair. It appears that Bob however, was not so lucky, and did not escape punishment.

"Ah, Pistol," Bob exclaimed, "I've been waiting a long time for this. Remember all those years ago, when you abandoned me to the customs guards! I've been rotting in a Montaigne prison all this time, thinking of nothing else, but meeting up with my old friend Pistol again."

Strangely Pistol appeared to have no such recollection at all, and merely stated that he was here to return the hat which Bob had so obviously mistakenly left at the manor. "I couldn't possibly be accepting such a lovely hat as a gift, perhaps I'll just leave it here for you and we'll be on our way."

"Not so fast! After such a long time, surely you'd like to try your hand against your old sparring partner. Look you've even got an advantage over me now, I don't see as well since I lost this eye in prison..."

Pistol still seemed somewhat reluctant to accept the bout, but the rest of us pushed him in to the centre of the room, and a cheer went up from the audience. The bookmakers became very busy as bets were laid, I noticed Eduarde risking a sizable sum, strangely, I don't think he was supporting our chum Pistol!

We'd noticed in the past that Pistol was quite a skilled fist-fighter. I believe he mentioned "studying" the Finnegan method, and I noticed him demonstrating a couple of the moves as he and Bad Bob traded initial blows. However, it was also evident that Bob was aware of the Finnegan fighting method, and seemed to anticipate Pistol's every manoeuvre.

Pistol managed to get in a good blow or two, and it seemed that he was somehow able to absorb a good many blows that seemed as though they should have done more damage. However, Bob's skill was soon quite evident, one-two, one-two, one-two, and poor Pistol's nose was a bloody mess. Oddly Franz, Eduarde, Dandelion and I seemed to be enjoying the punishment Pistol was being dealt. Perhaps it was some form of retribution for the episode at the Gilded Lily.

Soon the fight turned comical, as Pistol took to a supporting beam and climbed to the rafters to avoid further blows from Bad Bob. Bob calmly began loading a pistol, "Are you going to come down from there, or am I going to have to shoot you down." This was looking a bit serious now, but Pistol solved the dilemma by inching his way along the rafter before belly-flopping down upon an unsuspecting Bob.

Bob soon recovered though, and landed a few more blows before knocking Pistol out cold. A hearty cheer went up from the crowd, and the purple hat was placed on Pistol's head before everyone retired for a drink. We managed to revive Pistol with a scent of ale, but had to drag him along to Doctor McBride's to get properly patched up.

When we got back to the manor, we found Don Carlos was up and about, but still looking much the worse for wear after his duel a few days back. He was silly enough to allow Pistol to try and fix his wounds. Pistol turned around and delivered his customary kick to the posterior, which seemed to do far more harm than good. Pistol promptly came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do. A disgruntled Carlos then headed to the town doctors, but even the famed Dr McBride was unable to heal his wounds. He still looks in a somewhat precarious state.

The time for Erhart's wedding was now upon us. Pistol had dictated a letter to Dandelion, who scribed the letter in Vodacce. The letter, plus one of Dandelion's handkerchiefs, was secreted with the vial of poison in the bridal bouquet. We can only hope that poor Teresa is able to make sense of the letter and understand what the vial contains. It sure made no sense to me. I mean why not just say "Here is a vial of poison your sister asked us to give to you. She died in our arms. Kill Erhart". That would be much more sensible, instead, the letter reads:

"If not holy then profane,
Sometimes fancy, sometimes plain
Its your fate so you decide
Widow, mother, maid or bride"

My dear Sister,

As you know a keepsake embodying these words has accompanied every bride in our family since our grandmothers' grandmothers were married . In this foreign land I have made this one anew for you; to last your whole married life and become entangled in the fate of your new family. I had hoped to hand this to you personally but if you are reading this note then you must know that nothing less than death itself has prevented my being with you.

I give you some Saint's water to symbolise the holy blessing over your nuptials, a lace handkerchief for courage if your heart cries for home and a button to remind you of the domestic tasks we laughed at as girls.

Reflect upon the Saints water my dear before your wedding night and think of me kindly as you eat, drink and celebrate your new life.

Your loving Sister

by her last friends.

Oh well, I can only hope she doesn't decide to sprinkle it on her cheeks or whatever the Vaticines do with their holy water.

We made our way to the cathedral, we were seated up near the back, which suited me just fine. Erhart made a grand entrance, pompously striding up the centre aisle. I'd had enough, and jumped out into the aisle behind him, and attempted to lift the carpet to trip him up, but the carpet was heavy, and didn't budge. Glumly I sat down again and the ceremony proceeded in a most boring fashion.

As the bride wanly walked down the aisle, the bouquet held limply, eventually dropping to the floor. Dandelion leapt up and grabbed it, handing it to her "There is a message in here from your sister". We can only hope she gets to read it.

A feast followed at Erharts mansion, and again it was an exercise in extravagance. Most of the decent folk left early. Dandelion managed to place one of his blooded pins in a tapestry. Erharts men bundled Teresa away, as Erhart explained to the gathered guests that she was "tired" and needed rest. We left and headed back to the manor. I called up an image of the feast in my silver plate when we got back. It showed Erhart and his friends enjoying more debauchery. What a villain!

We slept uneasily that night.

Tomorrow is the day we believe we need to open the dracheneisen door in the cellar. So today, we made preparations.

Dandelion reviewed the diary. In particular the entry from Julius 11th 1553 which described the traps we would face upon entering the grotto behind the cellar:
- See the sleeping guard, hug the wall
- Walk the path of blood
- Stand on the shoulders of your ancestors
- See the leaping Stapp, stop and count to ten
- Turn the two keys at once left to right

Franz and I went back to the cemetary to check the names on the gravestones for the old Baron Drachenheims family, they were Laucks, Rueckers, Kramers, plus the grave of Adeline Habermann.

Dandelion also noted some important news of the world from the latest Freiburg Gazette. It does seem that the world is in turmoil!

Apparently the island of the Caligari's, Rienascienza, has sunk!! I do wonder if they've been playing with the wrong sort of Syrneth artifacts again!

Georg Hainzl has defeated some fellow called Neff in battle, and now believes in his madness, that Eisenfürst Fischler is the cause of his problems, and appears to be preparing for war. Meanwhile Fischler has stood down his army as the Sieger threat is no longer apparent (Sieger having invaded Mondavi in Vodacce).

Add to that that we still have Montague's army in Posen, and some sort of disruption going on in Montaigne, it would seem that the whole world is about to be enveloped in conflict. It certainly looks like Franz is taking the news rather badly, the last thing he needs is more war in Eisen.

Well, tomorrow we go into the cellar, let's hope that at least we can discover something that will help our present situation.

Borstennskoldmund.