#60 - Much Hurried

On A Mission to Greet Ambassadors

- By Teel James, Raconteur for the Chronicles of Inné and Innéthel and their environs, Late Winter

Your intrepid raconteur is currently mailing his stories from White, a town that most Innéans living in the Thel only see in the summer, more rarely in spring after break-up, or fall before freeze up.

The river, our Lady’s gift, has frozen hard behind our barges as we have been incredibly lucky.  I am currently with Liryen Carbine Horse Guard and the Cylak King Stag and his coronshion, under the direction of Ahrimaz.

We have trusted information that the Ambassadors from Rummammalos, very large and very lavishly ornamented courtiers, are under a dreadful threat to their lives and are tasked with intercepting them and escorting them safely to Innéthel.  Our informant tells us that the Riga Cities did not give the Ambassadors sufficient escort.  In this world this might be different but Inné cannot afford to risk this.

Rummammalos are willing to trade their tooth-ivory in exchange for made goods and they also have amazing makers, specializing in jewelry.  Their gem stones are very rarely seen on this continent, another trade commodity.  They are fantastic creatures that dwarf the Cylak great stags and might be willing to exchange apprentices for their lapidary industry and for our great works projects.

As I recounted in one of my earlier stories, we were nearly frozen in at the military dock and were prayed free by our Hunter Priest, with assistance from Ahrimaz.  Yes, the other Ahrimaz, who apparently has as strong a connection to our most precious and terrifying Goddess Liryen as our Ahrimaz.

It is on the Hand’s recognizance that Ahrimaz Kenaçyen is here, and in charge of the Horse Guard.  The family, though cognizant of all the startling differences between the differently raised men, are acknowledging him as their own, as I have also said before.

Apparently these Ambassadors were also present in the world of the Empire and were attacked and injured for their jewels.  One, a ‘Curious’, or inventor/researcher by the name of Didara, died and the survivor went home in grief, vowing to cut off any travel between their country and ours.  In this world, Ahrimaz insists there is a chance to save the Ambassador Didara and to save the connection, the friendly and potentially lucrative exchange of ideas and goods with the Rummummalos.

White, in the winter, is very representative of its name.  The marble it is known for and built from is white, the roof tiles are white and just after snow fall it all but vanishes.  The Horse Guard, with silver shining armour high-blue greatcoats and gold braid, multi-coloured horses, and their silken banners blazoned with the flowering apple tree are a wild splash of colour, while the stags of the Stag, Cylak King Pelahir, throw up sprays of snow beside the road, the fields safely frozen under their shaggy feet, their antler bells ringing as they outrun the horses.

We have seven days to meet the Ambassadors in the hope of rescuing them from this prophesied attack.  Seven days in the depth of winter, with the road-clearing crews much bogged down, we will be moving a military force across the country to the edges of the Grim Quagmire, in all its frozen leagues.

The Horse Guard laugh and say I should keep my carbine dry, since the Captain has decided that I should not only have my sword to defend myself but that I shall train with fire-arms, along with the rest of her Guard, firing at smaller and smaller targets in the snow when we stop for the nights.  

I am sending the story back to White with my Broadsheet courier and the next the 'Sheet will hear is whether we have succeeded or not, as we tear through snow and cold and ice and slush, to the edge of the biggest patch of muck in all the known lands.

The call comes for me to be quick, to mount up.  I pull my mitten back on with my teeth and hand off my missive to the courier waiting on her shaggy, rough pony.

I am, your much-hurried raconteur, Teel James.