[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/241115/181cd2720b7fe12cab5be2d571a18ab8.png[/img][color=BDB76B][h1]Myaatyun Kidelaut[/h1][/color][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/241115/80d60b61bcb61bd7ec314f2e92ee86ac.png[/img]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5518458](Character sheet)[/url]

[color=BDB76B][b]Time:[/b][/color] Evening
[color=BDB76B][b]Location:[/b][/color] Redwater[/center]

Kidelaut knew Redwater as how one might know an old friend – with fond memories of their past together, and a wistful longing to experience those times again. 

He still remembered the day he first laid eyes upon the town. He had been a mere youth of fourteen back then – a recent arrival from Kimoon with nothing but dreams of making a name for himself in these foreign, Caesonian lands. And Redwater, unburdened by infamy in those good old days, had been a quiet town on the outskirts of Felipina, barely half-a-day’s ride from the city. Kidelaut recalled making the trip on foot – he hadn’t the coin for a carriage – with apprehension gripping his heart the entire way. After all, he hadn’t any idea what to expect. He hadn’t even known much about Caesonia as a whole. 

And yet, when he saw the town rise into view, saw how it straddled the River Vermelleuve with its series of bridges and waterwheels, and saw how idyllic it looked sitting peacefully beneath the snow-capped peaks of the majestic Sans Pareil Mountains, the worry and anxiety melted away, replaced by awe. Kidelaut had, up until then, never seen a sight quite like it. The Redwater of that time had looked as if it had been pulled straight out of a fairy tale, and planted in the Caesonian countryside. 

Kidelaut closed his eyes. Even now, everything was still vivid in his mind, as if his memories were of things that happened a few days ago, and not well over a decade in the past. He could still smell the crisp, alpine air, invigorating and refreshing; hear the chirping songs of birds unknown to Kimoon; sit beneath a sky that was never overcast, be it day or night; and see the eponymous red-tinted waters, courtesy of the riverine mosses which the locals used to make a distinct, crimson dye. 

He exhaled slowly through his nose. For the better part of a year, he had called Redwater home. In return, the town had carefully etched those pleasant memories; those bucolic moments that brought him comfort during dark times, onto his mind. 

And those etchings were now all that remained of the old Redwater.

[color=DEB887]“‘S’cuse me, this seat taken?”[/color]

A man’s voice shocked Kidelaut out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, and he blinked a few times to clear his mind. Still, he possessed enough mental clarity to notice that the man spoke with an accent, one that was just thick enough to identify him as a Varian northerner – someone who hailed from the eternally snow-covered lands beyond the Krasnivaya Mountains. 

[color=BDB76B]“No, not at all,”[/color] Kidelaut said and shifted further to his side of the bench, until he could rest his arm on the scrollwork of its armrest. He cast a sidelong glance at the man. Like most who ventured onto the streets of Redwater, he kept the lower half of his face covered. The upper classes had a preference for comfortable masks made of soft, layered fabrics. This man however, dressed as he was in garb that marked him quite clearly as a sellsword – drab, earth-coloured clothes beneath a cuirass and short tassets, and a sword by his side – wasn’t of such a class. And so, he instead had a thick scarf wrapped up to his nose. 

[color=BDB76B]“Please, do have a seat,”[/color] Kidelaut continued. The sight of the man’s scarf, and his attire, made him aware of his own. Just like the man, Kidelaut was dressed as a sellsword. Though his suit of half-plate might be a touch shinier, and his forest green shirt and trousers a little less frayed, he nevertheless looked every part a blade looking to be hired. 

Such attire, coupled with the muggy air, made for a very discomforting experience. The scarf Kidelaut had pulled up to the bridge of his nose didn’t help with matters. Every breath felt like a chore, one that couldn’t even adequately fill his lungs. But Kidelaut also knew that without that strip of fabric, the air he would invite into his body would be little better than poison.

The man said a word of thanks, his armour clanking as he sat down heavily with a grunt. Then, he reclined with an arm stretched over the top of the bench, the hand of the other running through a head of straw-like hair which had the appearance of short and pointed grass. Kidelaut responded with a simple nod, his gaze fixed on Redwater’s main square, directly ahead of him and just beyond the point of his boots. 

He sighed and hung his head. Here, he had no better view of Redwater’s sordid fate.

Gone were the clear skies; the light of the evening sun could barely pierce the thick smog which blanketed the town in clouds of dusty brown. Street lamps struggled to provide illumination, but their lights were little more than vague, yellow glows through the hanging filth. Gone was also the fresh, clean air; so pervasive was the scent of iron that it was palpable even through Kidelaut’s scarf. He felt the metallic tang creep into his nose, and could even taste it upon his tongue. And gone were the birds and their songs; it didn’t seem as if there were any living creatures in Redwater apart from the people who called it home. The only songs that remained were the droning hums and angry grumbles of distant machinery. 

But worst of all was the river. Kidelaut couldn’t see it from where he sat, but he could hear it. One couldn’t escape the rush of water here in Redwater. Once, he would have enjoyed the noise, but now all it did was remind him of the sorry state of the Vermelleuve. It still flowed red, but it wasn’t the rosy pink of Kidelaut’s memories, and instead a sickly orange, as if the water itself had rusted over. Dam and dam exploiting the river for more and more power slowed its flow to a gurgling trickle as it meandered through town, staining desolate riverbanks and sapping life from all that it touched. 

Kidelaut shook his head. If the Redwater of years past had been a setting from a fairy tale, then whatever it had become was surely a victim of a Kimoonese cautionary story. One that cautioned against the sins of rampant industry with all of the subtlety of a brick to the face, he noted. 

Beside him, the man cleared his throat. It was an awkward, unnatural sound. [color=DEB887]“I hear that Veirmont is a fine place to visit in the spring,”[/color] he said.

[color=BDB76B]“Not as fine as Vayansk in the summer, however,”[/color] Kidelaut replied. Under his scarf, he grinned. [color=BDB76B]“It is good to see you, Jaakko.”[/color]

[color=DEB887]“Likewise, Renny,”[/color] Jaakko replied. Neither used the other’s real name. Both had done this exact thing too many times, and knew far better than to make such elementary mistakes. Jaakko glanced at Kidelaut from the corner of his eye. [color=DEB887]“Frostbite take my fingers, Renny, you look like someone just took a steaming shit in your dinner. What’s going on?”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“Do I, now?”[/color] Kidelaut chuckled and shook his head at Jaakko’s strange choice of words. [color=BDB76B]“That is very, very strange of you to say, especially since our faces are hidden.”[/color]

[color=DEB887]“True, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happy whenever you visit Redwater,”[/color] Jaakko replied, the grin on his face clear in his tone. [color=DEB887]“Call it my gambler’s instinct to bet on whatever’s most probable, eh?”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“As you wish,”[/color] Kidelaut said. [color=BDB76B]“And you said it yourself. If I do appear morose, it is because of this place.”[/color]

Several years ago, when Kidelaut visited Redwater for the third time since moving to Hartworth, he hadn’t been just morose. He had been furious. The sight of a forest of chimneys spewing plumes of black smoke into the air; of sprawling refineries dumping their refuse onto dying fields; and of the mines burrowing deep beneath the Sans Pareil allowing their toxic run-off to drain into the Vermelleuve, had enraged him. Dutiful knight that he was at the time, he had raised his concerns to his then-master, only to be told that although such things were ghastly, they were ultimately inevitable along the path of progress.

And like a fool, Kidelaut had allowed such a flimsy excuse to placate him. Such moments, such memories made him wish for a temperament closer to Cynwaer’s. That seafarer was brash and overly-quick to resort to violence, but at least he would have fought hard for what he thought was right. He wouldn’t have simply taken a noble’s word at face value. 

Kidelaut drew in a deep breath. The scarf flattened against his nose. [color=BDB76B]“In any case,”[/color] he said. [color=BDB76B]“Do you have what we asked?”[/color]

[color=DEB887]“Sure as the springmelt, I do,”[/color] Jaakko replied. He paused, eyes narrowing as he took a quick look around them, disguising that action with the pretence of stretching his neck. Apart from a handful of people quickly crossing the square, and a few hurrying past a row of squarish buildings to their left, there wasn’t much in the way of a crowd. Kidelaut had expected that. Redwater only truly came to life at night, well after sunset, and after the refineries closed for the day. Only then would the smog be at its least dense. 

Satisfied that nobody was watching, Jaakko quickly slipped a hand between his cuirass and shirt, carefully pulling out a thin, stained, and slightly bent folder. It had no markings on it. No names, no labels, not even a scribbled drawing. To anyone else’s eyes, it would have likely appeared to be something mundane, of no particular import or significance. That was if they even noticed it in the first place.

And that was exactly what Jaakko and Kidelaut had intended. 

Jaakko placed the folder beside him, as if he were simply putting it down for a moment. Without looking at Kidelaut, he slid it towards the middle of the bench. 

Kidelaut waited five heartbeats, then pulled the folder towards him. He picked it up, peaked at its contents, and slotted it between his own cuirass and shirt. 

And that was it.

[color=BDB76B]“You have our thanks,”[/color] Kidelaut said with a nod.

Jaakko chuckled. [color=DEB887]“I’ll need more than that, considering the trouble I had to go through to get that,”[/color] he said with a shake of his head. [color=DEB887]“Tell Songbird they owe me more than just a drink, this time. Giving me less than two days to dig up all that information on His Iron Lordship, what were they thinking?”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“You managed it, however,”[/color] Kidelaut noted.

Jaakko nodded. [color=DEB887]“That, I did. Don’t make it a habit, though.”[/color]

Kidelaut tapped a finger on his thigh. [color=BDB76B]“I do admit that I am curious, however,”[/color] he said, turning his head fully to look directly into Jaakko’s chilly, azure eyes. [color=BDB76B]“You are rather forthcoming about working against the man who employs you. Is there a reason for why that is so?”[/color] He paused. [color=BDB76B]“Oh, I mean no offence, and certainly no suspicion. Please, do not misunderstand. Your loyalty is without question. I am merely intrigued.”[/color]

He grinned, and his words took on a more teasing – a more Sioridann-like – hue. [color=BDB76B]“Unless, of course, there is reason for us to be suspicious.”[/color]

Jaakko regarded him with a strange look in his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. [color=DEB887]“Frostbite take my– no, take [i]your[/i] fingers, Renny. Songbird’s rubbing off on you,”[/color] he said with a chuckle. Then, he sighed, eyes gazing out towards and beyond the square. [color=DEB887]“But, to answer your question, my contract with that little bastard ends this week, and I’m not planning on signing another one, so he’s not going to be my boss for much longer. I’m sure as springmelt not going to care about whatever befalls him.”[/color]

He adjusted his scarf, pulling it further up the bridge of his nose. [color=DEB887]“And besides, it’s about time that bastard paid for all the shite that he’s done. By summer’s thaw, I’d even bet that it’s not just you and Songbird who have plans for him. Half of Redwater probably wants His Iron Lordship gone.”[/color]

Kidelaut nodded slowly. That wasn’t the answer he had been expecting, but it was certainly an interesting one. One of which he wanted to hear more. [color=BDB76B]“That is news to me,”[/color] Kidelaut began, his voice low. For once, he found himself thankful for the scarves they had to wear. The fabric muffled their words, and kept them close. Conversations didn’t drift far in Redwater. [color=BDB76B]“Please, do elaborate.”[/color]

[color=DEB887]“Come on, Renny,”[/color] Jaakko said. [color=DEB887]“Surely as snows will melt, you’ve heard of all the shite he’s done?”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“Only as much as what little I hear from beyond Redwater’s borders, I fear,”[/color] Kidelaut admitted. 

‘His Iron Lordship’ was the moniker by which the people of Redwater – both high and low – knew a certain Gratien Wesschler, a captain of industry and mining magnate. That much, Kidelaut knew with certainty for a fact. He also knew that the moniker was a misnomer. Wesschler wasn’t an actual lord, for one. As far as Kidelaut knew, he wasn’t even of noble birth, even if he did act to the contrary. And secondly, it wasn’t just iron in which Wesschler dealt. Coal, bloodstone, silver, and even gems; if it came out of the ground, and if it came from Redwater, Wesschler likely had a hand in its extraction, refining, and sale.

All that made Wesschler a very, very rich man. It wasn’t a secret as to how he spent such wealth; even the lowliest miners were aware of the generous bribes he handed out like sweets during a festival, or the gifts he lavished upon the local nobility. Such acts bought him influence; bought him power; and perhaps most importantly, bought him the ability to have his way in just about every matter in Redwater. Indeed, Kidelaut had never heard of Gratien meeting trouble when he bought almost a third of all the mines in Redwater, or when he took over one of the larger and more productive refineries.

Kidelaut’s stomach turned at the mere thought of such corruption, but even so, he could admit that Gratien hadn’t done anything particularly reprehensible. True, his actions likely didn’t endear him to anyone – and had likely achieved the opposite – but Kidelaut didn’t think that a hostile takeover here, and a bribe to get his way there, were enough to antagonise half-a-town, as Jaakko had said. 

[color=DEB887]“Well,”[/color] Jaakko continued. [color=DEB887]“Where do I even fucking begin?”[/color]

His shoulders heaved as he drew in a deep breath. [color=DEB887]“Maybe from his love for women? And I’m using ‘love’ very fucking loosely here. We’re both– Well, you [i]were[/i] a sellsword, Renny, but I’m sure you’re no stranger to fellows who think with their cocks more than their heads, right?”[/color] Kidelaut nodded. [color=DEB887]“Well, this rat bastard lordship takes that to the bloody extreme. Frostbite take my fucking head if I lie, but I swear I’ve seen him with one girl in the morning, another in the afternoon, and maybe three others by evenfall.”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“Sounds like some people we’ve known, Jaakko,”[/color] Kidelaut noted.

[color=DEB887]“Yeah, well,”[/color] Jaakko said, his tone darkening slightly. [color=DEB887]“The people we knew had standards, Renny. At least they left married women alone, and didn’t…”[/color] He stopped himself and looked away. [color=DEB887]“Let’s just say that he’s not used to being rejected. I’ve heard from some of the local sellswords that if he can’t get what he wants by throwing money at it, he’ll use force.”[/color]

Kidelaut’s hands balled into fists, and he set his jaw. [color=BDB76B]“And those sellswords, they don’t stop him?”[/color]

Jaakko turned to look at him with a flat expression in his eyes. [color=DEB887]“Renny, the bastard could sign a confession to every crime known to man and beast, and he’d still be a free man by sundown. Anyone who’s got family in Redwater knows better than to cross him.”[/color] He paused and leaned back onto the bench. [color=DEB887]“I guess that’s why he doesn’t pull his nonsense when me and the other North Varians are around. We’d cave his fucking head in with a hammer.”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“So, this…Iron Lordship is a vile lech in addition to being corrupt,”[/color] Kidelaut said. [color=BDB76B]“Songbird is going to love playing with him, of that I am certain.”[/color]

Jaakko chuckled mirthlessly. [color=DEB887]“I hope they make it hurt,”[/color] he said. [color=DEB887]“By the long winter night, Renny, if he was just a corrupt, perverse bastard, that’d be enough for me to want him dead. But no, he has to go the extra mile and be involved in some shady horseshite.”[/color] He looked around once more. There were only the two of them around the square; everyone else had likely scurried into some building and away from the smog. 

[color=DEB887]“I’ve written it all down,”[/color] Jaakko said, nodding towards the folder behind Kidelaut’s cuirass. [color=DEB887]“But since I’ve already started ranting about the bastard, I might as well continue.”[/color] He cleared his throat, coughing into a fist, before continuing. [color=DEB887]“Look, Renny, I don’t know much about mining and how it works, but I think I know enough to be fucking sure that you don’t need to bring in close to three hundred new workers every other week, and all of them from just about every corner of Caesonia. Either something in those mines is eating workers, or that bastard is up to no fucking good.”[/color]

That caught Kidelaut’s attention in an instant. What Jaakko was saying was eerily similar to the rumours of missing – or abducted, depending on who you asked – persons that had brought Sioridann and his paths to Redwater, and to Gratien, in the first place. [color=BDB76B]“I know Wesschler owns a number of mines,”[/color] Kidelaut said, reaching under his scarf to scratch his chin. [color=BDB76B]“I do not doubt that he is involved in some criminal enterprise or other, Jaakko, but I will ask this to be absolutely clear. Is it possible that his mines and his refinery are just that dangerous? Enough so that he would need that many fresh hires regularly?”[/color]

[color=DEB887]“Not a damn chance.”[/color] Jaakko’s response was immediate. Evidently, he had already considered – and then rejected – such a possibility. [color=DEB887]“That bastard treats his workers worse than dung, don’t get me wrong, but it’d take him actually, actively [i]killing[/i] them to lose a few hundred every two weeks.”[/color] He paused to breathe. [color=DEB887]“I’m not even sure that they’re actually workers, to be honest. I’ve patrolled the mines and refinery many, many times since he started bringing in these people and I can’t remember ever seeing a new face at work.”[/color]

Kidelaut chewed on his lip. [color=BDB76B]“That is indeed very troubling.”[/color]

[color=DEB887]“That’s putting it lightly,”[/color] Jaakko said. Then, he sat up straight, clenching and unclenching his hands. [color=DEB887]“You know what, Renny? Now that I’ve said everything out loud, I’m not sure I can just walk away from that little bastard without giving him a piece of my mind. The North Varians listen to me, mostly, so if you need extra muscle for whatever you and Songbird have planned, you let me know.”[/color]

Kidelaut looked at him and grinned. [color=BDB76B]“Ah, finally decided to fight the good fight, have you?”[/color]

Jaakko chuckled. [color=DEB887]“Just this once, Renny.”[/color] He stood up and stretched his arms. [color=DEB887]“Though I’ll definitely need new work once we’re through with that bastard, so who knows, eh?”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“Then I shall endeavour to make this operation of ours one that is spectacular enough to convince you and yours to join our cause.”[/color] Kidelaut stood up as well.

[color=DEB887]“I won’t deny that I’ve thought about it,”[/color] Jaakko said. [color=DEB887]“Especially after seeing just how people like that rat bastard treats the lower classes.”[/color] He looked off to the side, then back at Kidelaut. [color=DEB887]“Anyway, I should return to my duties before they miss me too much.”[/color]

[color=BDB76B]“Very well,”[/color] Kidelaut said. [color=BDB76B]“Be safe and be discreet. We would hate to lose a friend such as yourself.”[/color]

Jaakko waved his words away. [color=DEB887]“Eh, I wouldn’t worry, Renny. If anything happens to me, the North Varians would probably riot, and that bastard might be a bastard, but he’s not a stupid bastard. Not stupid enough to want a small band of very, very angry North Varians on his property, at least.”[/color] He nodded, and Kidelaut returned the gesture. [color=DEB887]“But I’ll be careful, and I hope your path is true as the autumn frost, Renny.”[/color]

Kidelaut said one last word of farewell before the two men parted ways. Jaakko stalked off northwards, to where most of the town’s workers had their quarters, and the part of the city that was closest to the mines and refineries. Kidelaut remained where he was for a moment longer, looking up towards an obscured sky, listening to the gurgle of a poisoned river, and tasting the tainted, metallic air. 

He looked down and shook his head. [i]An industrialist, hm?[/i] He mused. It felt almost poetic. Here he stood, in the midst of an old friend ruined by industry. And in his mind, he still clung onto memories of an old love, murdered by a soulless profiteer. Kidelaut made it a point to never take pleasure in ending his marks – he did what he did because there was no other option.

But for Gratien Wesschler, corrupt industrialist and exploiter of suffering, Kidelaut supposed that he could make an exception.