Baron Drachenheim part III

by Dandelion

Dear Lucerne,

I am almost acclimatised to Freiburg now. My joy at finding wine [real Montaigne! Even the good stuff grown on the western hills where we were born and trampled by the young fiancees] led me to become more melancholy and introspective than usual. My vivid and strange dreams are full of omens and warnings. Inevitably I drank more. Freiburg has made Amvrose more direct. He suggested that I drink by the bottle rather than the dozen. I retorted that 'if I want a dozen bottles opened and lined up like green soldiers on my right and once emptied to stand like tombstones on my left, it will be done'. He then inferred that if I kept up my "cup and lip exercise" I should exceed my stipend and fall into want. The nerve! But I said nothing. I drank. I listened. This is Freiburg's effect on me; I have learnt a new word "moderation".

This is probably Thean and is not practiced or used here much more than at home. You must realise that Freiburg is an island in a sea of muck. Outside is muck which is eaten, drunk, worn, animated and defecated. People come here for their "bit". This Eisen word is the opposite of excess. It means just enough "to keep body and soul together." It's a war word, it's mediocrity but it is the WAY here. Ask no questions and I'll do my bit and take my bit and you can have yours. It is anathema to civilisation. All the talented artists and others have left. This has left a void. The Eisenfürst has filled the void. It is filled with what is called opportunity. The locals think that this is civilisation.

It reminds me of an isolated inn where the innkeeper thinks that his food, drink and clothes are the best in the world. That his patrons are the richest, finest, and most talented. The songs that they sing are the most hearty. They believe that there is nothing good, wise or virtuous that they don't possess and know all about. They are deluded. But while they are drunk with this delusion they see nothing else and want nothing else.

Of course such drunks can be quite amusing. This morning a messenger arrived with a letter for Pistol. He cried tears of joy and showed everyone who was awake [or awakened unfortunately including me at 9am] his first letter. Unfortunately the "opportunity" of receiving a letter didn't give him the skills to read it. Armin prevented him from using it to repair the hole in his boots and prevailed on him to let me read it: "I know who you really are. Meet me at the Steam Kettle at noon." The letter was snatched from my hands as he cavorted in joy around the room. " A personal invitation to lunch, How 'bout dat?" he cried. Eduarde calmed him by reminding him that he should be properly attired for his new status as luncheon guest and ball attendee. I was aghast. I hadn't realised that he was going to attend the ball rather than just waiting outside. In my surprised [and tired] state I stood still. (Otherwise I would have moved away from Pistol's stench and checked my manicured hands for paper cuts. As an aside, Eisen oil of wintergreen with its powerful pine scent is essential on a handkerchief to allow me to be in the same room as certain characters.) Pistol grasped my hand in what he probably regarded as a chummy gesture. I think fewer than one man in a thousand could have broken his hold. "What do you think of the colour purple? Don Carlos and Eduarde have arranged a measuring and have chosen 50 pints of Eau de Posen to make me presentable" he gushed. I replied automatically, "Purple is two years out of date why not try one of this autumn's colours such as green." He released me and slapped me on the back which I took to be a sign of approval. I was free to look around him and noticed Eduarde avoiding my gaze. "What time is your measuring?" I enquire and avoid looking at his smashed cratered nose with its pulsing blue vein by feigning a coughing fit and make good use of my handkerchief.

Soon lets go. Eduarde holds open the door in that way that indicates that I am going too. I see I have spoilt his joke to have Pistol dressed to match his nose. Even the Eisen may have been affronted to have a 'courtier' whose most charitable description is the cardinal's horse [with barding]. I accompany them to Jean Riche du Paroisse's emporium. I wonder what he has done to go into exile but he hasn't modified his name in the customary manner. Pistol is soon fitted under my direction with hose, doublet, apron etc in pine green and sickly yellow. The effect is even better than I expected. He will need to come back this evening for a final fitting. Normally I wouldn't notice how much others pay but I now understand what Monsieur Riche is up to. If word gets out the Du Bissets will overrun this place.

I order a chest and two balanced daggers from the local craftspeople. They don't need to belong to the merchants guild to have a shop here so quality is highly variable. I remember that the Abbess of San Antoine used to do the same. The result there was that goods were OK but the area is overrun with criminals and fugitives. Freiburg is like that. As we pass an alleyway we hear a sailor in trouble. We investigate and run into Long Tom Copper and 12 friends who offer us nautical careers with bonus lumps. Pistol gets his lumps in advance and the rest of us are surrounded and attacked. Eduarde fells six before Don Carlos gets one. Then Don Carlos gets three, I got one and Pistol and Eduarde put the rest to flight. I fix up the wounds of the party except Pistol's. I haven't learnt his trick of a 'kick up the bum' and this may have limited my effectiveness in treating him.

The Steam Kettle is a waterfront workers eatery. Its turtle soup is good the rest is at best watery. I am wearing my somewhat patched 'diggers' leathers so I am still well dressed compared to the usual patrons. An urchin arrives telling Pistol that he is expected in the alley out the back.

We adjourn outside leaving the urchin the rest of our soup. A voice comes out an open manhole, "Pistol come on in". Pistol reluctantly climbs down into the dark. Further on and further in. He is gone only a short time and I have prepared a lantern. He calls out in alarm and reappears out of the manhole. Apparently his interlocutor is deceased cutting short the monologue. The tales that are circulating about Pistol come to the front of my mind. However his obvious distress and his description of the garrotting [not Pistol's style] encourage us to go down and investigate. Pistol lost the corpse in the sewerage and it wasn't to be found. I looked for tracks and found some wet footprints that had clawed feet. We follow them until they appeared to go through the solid side wall. Jokingly we ask if Pistol would like to follow them. He works his way to the front and walks through the wall. It is not a Porté gateway. The rest of us follow after. We are in a massive underground cavern where the multicoloured weird light flickers. It is full of toadstools the size of huts. We look behind and we have emerged from a red and white spotted toadstool. The tracks continue through the 'forest of toadstools'. Don Carlos is concerned about getting back. I remember the encounter on the way to Isle d'Bete and suspect 'normal' is suspended here. We follow the tracks and arrive at a fungus castle. The fungal portcullis drops down.

A voice from inside calls out.

voice: "Who goes there?"
pistol: "Who wants to know?"
voice: "Egbert the Changeling, now what's your name?"
pistol: "Pistol I believe"
voice: "That's a strange name, is Believe your first or last name.
pistol: "No, Pistol is my name.
voice: "Are you sure, Peter O'Toole?[voice sounds amused]
pistol: "You don't think I don't know my own name
voice: "Yes, why don't you step to the right?
pistol: "What happens if I step to the right?
voice: "Try it and see.
pistol: "Pistol steps to right and straight back again
voice: "and stay there
pistol: "OK" [and steps back]. "Can you answer a riddle?"
pistol: "What runs faster than a horse but has no legs?"
voice: "Bah 'the wind'."

A pit opens up and Pistol disappears. The same kind of process happens to the rest of us.

We are in a 20 foot deep pit. Egbert speaks to Pistol from top. "I didn't know mortals were so ugly. So Peter O'Toole son of Randall O'Toole, are you comfortable?" Pistol blusters but Egbert urinates on him and says that we are to be eaten by the court of Count D'Lore. While taunting us Egbert glances at Don Carlos. He shrieks "unclean" and disappears.

We hear his footfalls receding.

Pistol uses a syrneth artifact to get to top of pit. We form a 'rope' of clothing and get out. We head up the only exit and emerge into the Court of Count D'Lore. It is full of strangely beautiful beings who are twisted. Such as a tall handsome man with goats horns or a beautiful woman with half of her face permanently twisted and leering. A well dressed noble [presumably the count] addresses Pistol. "So Peter O'Toole what are you doing here?" Pistol stalls. "We all Knew your mother" [maniacal laughter everywhere]. "I didn't", Pistol replies. "Oh that is sad" says the count [loud almost insane sobbing everywhere]. "Now we are going to have to eat you". "Don't we get a chance?" questions Pistol. "If you defeat Grendel you may all go" says the count. As Pistol was asking " Is that the little baby Grendel I used to play tricks on?" in came a huge monster. It was like a giant crocodile of the Vodacce swamps but with 8 legs crossed with a giant squid with 8 tentacles. It was easily 30 feet long and it turned it's head and fixed Pistol with a malicious glare of recognition.

The melee was joined and we all got in telling blows but Pistol was grappled. He managed to headbutt Grendel and was released. Then it happened again but Pistol was bitten before he got his headbutt in. He called on 'Iron Meg' and Grendel's teeth made a sound like clashing armour and sparks flew off Pistol's skin. It is obviously powerful magic. Pistol was still heavily wounded but managed to be released again. A third time he was grappled but this time the teeth sank in and Pistol stopped moving. Grendel looked for a new target and went for Don Carlos who had made the most telling blows. Don Carlos was grappled. He struggled to free himself. He used the dagger in his left hand and cut the encircling tentacle. Miraculously he is released. Eduarde's brow is covered in sweat as he slashes at the beast. He has missed with a couple of massive blows. The fighting is desperate and I wonder if I will live. We all lay strong blows on Grendel and he groans and retreats.

The Count is not amused but he says you may go through that door. An open door that didn't exist before has appeared. We step through and are dropped from a height into the sewer we start in. Don Carlos swings to the side so he is only half covered in manure. We emerge and discover it is only 11 am; an hour before we enter the sewer. We are spooked and head for Drachenheim. On the bright side Pistol volunteers for a bath which should save on the perfume [and spare all those downwind for several miles].

Now I drink, I watch, I listen, I remember and I learn.