KnightsTemplar — Roleplayer Guild

The Doll with the heart of a bear Colab

Asgeirr tilted his back and laughed heartily, "Come then Daughter of Gratir, though I am of a sudden dread that I will ride away with less gold in my pouch, then I would have bargaining with your Father, let us strike a bargain, you and I", Asgeirr slipped from the saddle and stretched his 6'4" tall body slightly," There is no need for us to stand on ceremony, Frija, today I am but a person seeking to bargain with another, feel free to call me by my given name...may I?", he asked and gestured toward her axe. He took the axe, tested its weight in his hands before taking one of the larger logs she had cut and sat it upon its side on the stump of the tree she had just cut down, and laid the edge of the axe across the top of the log, then turned to speak to her,

"I have need of your Fathers barns, The King and his retinue will be arriving in a few days time and I am in need of a place to stable my own horses while the Kings horse and those of his men use my own stables", Asgeirr raised the axe high up over his head, then brought it down hard on the center of the log, splitting it in half then bent down and picked up one half and split that in half, "I cannot say for certain how long the King plans on staying, but given we are a farming folk without much in the way of luxury or lavish living quarter's, I think it not too long", Asgeirr placed the second half of the log on the stump and proceeded to split it in half as he did the first half, then grabbed another log and laid it upon the stump,"Shall we begin with say...seven days use starting the day before the Kings arrival, I of course will provide hay and feed for my horses...keep in mind it is I paying for the use and not the King, therefor I expect you to offer a fair price, Frija, now what say you?". He split the second log as easily as the first, then the tow halves into halves, allowing her a moments time to figure a price in which to charge him.

Frija tilted her head to the side almost haughtily. She wasn't sure if he was mocking her, or if he actually felt a bit sheepish about dealing with her. With a hand on her hip she kept a cautious eye on him. There were many reasons not to trust Janirarl, no matter who they were, and being female, there just happened to be even more reasons not to trust him. Janirarl were silver tongued and fork-eyed. They could charm you till you were half in a grave and turn on you before you even realized how devilish there true personalities were. A Janirarl was the reason her once noble father was a farmer. His grand father had been victim to a very beautiful and very greedy Janirarl. And it was taught in the family to be wary of any noble-blooded person, though you must always be polite and gracious. Seemed a bit backwards, if you asked Frija. She'd rather just smack them in the behind and make them leave her family alone than be nice to them. And that was why she wasn't shy about showing this Janirarl her more snippish side.

And by the Gods was he odd. Call him by his name? By Gods, how odd. Sure he was extremely tall and intimidating compared to her, but she didn't shy away from those types. Many Northern men were taller and stronger looking than her. Although in her experience it meant nothing when will came down to it. He took her axe and with annoying ease he smacked it perfectly in half. She did well to bite her tongue, and make sure her eyes didn't bug out of her skull. Impressive, yes, very. But she was already in an ill mood from being tired. He could split all of the wood himself, if he liked, but it wouldn't butter her up for any bargin. Money was money, no matter the flattery. Poverty would teach anyone that.

"Our barns," she murmured with her arms crossed in thought, her mind reeling "for the King. The King is coming here?" Well, then. How much odder could this get? Why would His Highness ever wish to leave his palace, for a place such as this? Her eyes snapped up however when he said 'we are farming folk' and her doe-like eyes sparked with anger. It was almost arrogant, they way he considered himself on par with the real farmers. Yes, they were so equal, the workers in the fields tilling away day after day, bleeding from work as he sat up in his fortified cushion drinking down wines and courting frilly frivolous women. Yes, they were sooo equal. But she kept a pleasant tone in her voice, her hand clenching her arms so she wouldn't be tempted to throw something at him.

"Seven days use, no feed or hay, the cost on your shoulders?" she mused tapping her chin, "Fair indeed. Twenty-five Gold per night, per barn should be about right, since one horse staying in our barn for a night would be two Silver." She grinned, which was actually quiet a sweet looking smile, to hide the remaining anger that had been in her eyes. "For you of course, the price is lowered, Mi'Lord," she said in her musical voice.

Asgeirr had not used an axe for the purposes of chopping wood since the days of his childhood when it was his chore to keep the hearth stocked with wood, or else suffer the harsh tone of his Fathers voice chastising him for failing such a simple task, a tone of voice he had seen and heard his Father use to make even the most battle hardened of the Kings Guard knees quake. It was a skill he used to his advantage now, using the axe with such a practiced ease he was able to watch Frija as he split her wood. Though she was Krolja, she was unlike most other Krolja, her ability to mask her contempt and distain while addressing one of the Janirarl class with false gestures and inflections of her tone of voice was equal to most, but it was the fire within her eyes that gave her away, and there was also no mistaking the flash of anger in those eyes when he purposely counted himself as one of the Farming Folk.

He paused from splitting the wood as she put forth her offer, he balked and feigned a look of astonishment on his face, "May the goddess Frida seek to bless my own coffer's with such prosperity, surely your comment of the price being lowered was meant to be humorous, Frija, but nevertheless, your skills would be better suited in the Merchants Guild, then here tilling soil". He paused a moment, then offered a counter bargain, "Fine, twenty five per night, per barn....in addition to, free use of a pasture for my war horses, and....I may come and supper with your Father, I trust he still savor's the taste of fresh venison and a tankard of ale?", he inquired casually, letting the implication that he might know her Father hang in the chilled air as he went about splitting the last of the larger logs.

Frija appeared to live up to the name her mother had given her on that winter storm night she had been birthed too. She was a cold and ruthless thing when it came to money. Money was hard to get, especially as a Farmer so close to the border. Her family was those that had fallen from nobility, but still had enough Janirarl blood to be able to get into the higher society by name. Janirarl ladies loved a good subject to gossip about. No doubt she'd be the highlight of the evening party if she were interesting in going to such things. A Krolja lady. Now that was a sight to see.

But it would be a cold day in the Underworld before she stepped foot into one of those situations. She didn't like being a 'lady' if it meant battering her lashes at anyone with title and money, suppressing her true self just to get married to some pig in lace. Her blood red hair was whipped up around her face as a passing wind rolled through the thin wood. Her sparked green eyes were locked with the Janirarl's and she managed to keep a smile on her face.

"Free use of the pasture for your war horses, without a finger laid to my fathers two work horses," she managed to get in an innocent fan of her gingered lashes, "and one dinner with my Father." She put stress on the 'one' with an unusual force. She didn't need him spreading it about the land that her father was so taken with ill that she might truly be the one running the farm. Or that they were in such a weakened state. Who knows who might just decide not to wait till her father's death to try and take their land and their home. They already had enough trouble with bears and wolves and a bandit here or there, they didn't need over bearing Krolja men and Janirarl graspers to be bother them. As oddly kind as this one was, she knew all too well how cruel men could be when had nothing to gain by being nice. Hell, things like that had taken her mother from her.

Asgeirr chuckled again, "Horses will be horses, but I will inform my stable boys to keep the horses separated, as for 'one' dinner, I will agree, but I doubt your Father will, there will be many stories to remember...I was still a "wet behind the ears" Officer of the Guards when I first met Sergeant Gratir, this part of the Kingdom was much wilder back in those day's, the Rskalarn were as thick as Vultures flying over a carcass back then", Asgeirr turned to look at Frija intently, "What I am about to tell you does not go beyond the two of us, if it does I will deny ever speaking of it, simply for the sake of your Fathers pride, but I will tell you because your Father never considered himself to be a Hero, but rather only thought of himself as only doing his duty...if it not for your Father stepping in the way of a young female Rskalarn's war spear meant for me, I would not be here chopping the wood of his Daughter, I owe your Father a debt, should Vemundr take him before he allows me to repay him, then being his offspring, the debt falls to you, Now...I still have the Garrison Commander to see, will you require my help in fetching all this wood home?". he asked as he held out his hand for her to grasp forearm to forearm as was the custom to bind the bargain between them.

"Doesn't go beyond us, huh?" she said slowly, "Well, then I have a few things to say as well." Frija wasn't the type of woman to fall over a man. Even even he own the land her father lived on. Or all of their neighbors' lands either. Her wild red hair whipped up in the wind, several rouge strands burning against the monotone greys of the world around them. Her blazing green eyes only narrowed slightly. That lady-like smile on her face slowly faded. "I don't like you," she said bluntly, "but like any other woman I guess I have to bend my back to your will too."

She took her axe from him and slammed it into one of the logs, splitting it clean in half. Compared to his show, it wasn't anything, but for a woman from noble bloodlines, she was impressive in a wild kind of barbaric way. Putting a boot on the stump she used for chopping, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Don't expect much," she said in her clipped way, "Things are different for us than your gilded Janirarl ways. Look down on me, scoff at me, laugh, I don't care. But you disrespect my father... Well, then the King can find himself camping in the forest instead."

It was an arrogant and reckless way of talking, especially coming from a woman of the North. Had she of spoken like this to him in front of others, she could be arrested and executed. But he wanted to speak his piece, well then she'd get a few truths in as well. He was asking to eat at their table an unnumbered amount of time, which would not only deplete their stock since of course it would have to be fancy, but would make her have to skip on several meals herself. It was burdensome to have to cater to his whim, which he obviously didn't see. And it pissed her off.

"Vemundr take my tongue," she huffed, giving him a smirk, "You're trouble and you bring trouble with you. My father is an ill and elderly man who has had to work his fingers to the bone just to keep his family alive. And he failed. And it with his failure, so went his health and any other future for those left alive." She gathered up the wood in her arms. "I'm all that's left for him and we can hardly take care of the farming," her words bit like the icy wind, "You want me to cook you feasts, just so when you leave we can go hungry? Nay, sir, you best believe I will do right by my family's survival first." She glared right up at him. "So do not expect much."

She looked down at the arm he offered. "And you know very well how much you mock me by doing such a gesture," she hissed, "A contract with a woman is not honored. The only thing I can do is set the guidelines. I'll take you to my father and he will solidify the agreement." Although it wounded her pride to be unable to strike the contract completely on her own, she knew best than to take up the arm only to have him go back on his word lawfully just later. She was smarter than that.

Asgierr withdrew his hand and glared at the red haired woman in silence for several moments, it took all his effort to control his temper, he'd heard the rumors of the red haired Daughter of Gratir's brash and impertinence way of manner and had thought them to be slightly embellished upon up until now. When he spoke, his voice was low, commanding and only when he turned to mount his horse did his eyes break from hers,

"Like me or not, I am the Janirarl of this land, and therefore responsible for its people and their protection, and as the Janirarl in rule of this land, if I chose to make a bargain with whomever I chose to make the bargain with, it is indeed binding because my word is my bond and my bond is my honor, why else would I stand here and suffer your arrogance and insolence of tongue and manner?, how do you think it would fare with the other Farmers of my land if I were to strike a bargain with one of their own and then not honor the bargain later?

Asgierr let out a low whistle then pulled himself up onto the saddle after the horse approached at the familiar sound, taking up the reins he turned to lock gazes once more with the redheaded woman.

"You dishonor your Father and disrespect me with your lack of hospitality, did not my asking if your Father still savored the taste of venison imply I would provide for the meal?, I am well aware of the welfare of those under my charge, young lady, my coming to your table was not for the sole purpose of gorging myself upon your store of foodstuff, but to inquiry upon the health and condition of an old and respected friend from my days serving in the Kings Guard...now, since your find my gesture of hand to be so mocking to your sensibilities, I will indeed seal the bargain with your Father as agreed upon, but it will be without your assistance...I will send a carriage for your Father in a days time and offer him the courtesy and hospitality of my house that his Daughter lacks...have a pleasant eve, Daughter of Gratir". With that said, he reined in and spun the horse about and galloped off in the direction of the Garrison.

U.S. Marshal Joshua Hawkes rode into Ft.Hadley and up to the entrance of the Livery stable then stepped down of the large bay quarter horse, he could see the man he was after on the far end unsaddling his horse. He'd been on the mans trail for roughly a month since He'd ran from Justice and now that Joshua had him cornered in the stables, he wasnt going to let him get away, Joshua had a hunch Blackie would stay true to his nature and would'nt be able to resist a bottle of whiskey, Saloon whores and a game of cards for long. He watched the man stop unsaddling his horse when the crunching of hay under Joshua's boots caught his attention, Joshua squared up then called out in a tone steady and confident,

"Dont turn around Blackie, I'm a United States Marshal, keep your hands where I can see'em, I'm here to take you back to Sweetwater".

Blackie tense at his words, then widen his stance but, but kept his hands up on the saddle and answered back with a slight hesitation in his voice," Take me back to swing from a tree you mean, dont you Marshal?", Blackie paused a moment to gathered his courage, " You rode a long way fer noth'in Lawdog cause I aint going back", Blackie paused again, he knew he was in a tight spot, but the fear of swinging at the end of a rope was greater then eating lead, he was about to make his move when the Marshals next words caused him a moment of doubt,"Alive or dead Blackie, it dont matter to me much, but your going back to Sweetwater", Blackie gritted his teeth and his lips curled into a twisted grin as he spun on his heels to face the Marshal, his hand going for the pistol on his right hip.

Blackie may of been a murderous scoundrel, But Joshua wasnt the kind of man to shoot another in the back no matter how much of a dirty dog the Outlaw was,but he also knew Blackie wasnt the type to go peaceably and Joshua couldnt blame him for trying, the thought of dying by having your neck stretched out wasnt a pleasant thought even to him. So he waited the few seconds for Blackie to spin on the heels of his worn boots and go for his gun, Joshua's own hand flashed like lightening, gripping around the handle of the Colt.45 and bringing it up out of the holster, thumb cocked the hammer, and squeezeing off a single shot before the barrel of Blackies gun cleared the holster.

The dark red spot at the center of Blackies upper chest grow instantly and he was dead before his body hit the dirt floor of the Livery Stable. Joshua holstered his pistol then took out a piece of paper and began unfolding it as the crowd slowly crepted up to see what had happened. It wasnt long before the Towns Sheriff and Deputy came bargeing in with guns drawn, stopping to look between the body on the floor and the only other man standing inside the Stables. Joshua held out the unfolded piece of paper, already knowing the Sheriffs question, he cut him off with the answer, "That man was wanted in Sweetwater for the murder of a Rancher and his family", Joshua nodded toward the dead Blackie, "I'll need you to bear witness that the man lying deads the same one on this wanted poster, then put your mark on it".

thought taken aback by the nonchalance attitude of the Marshal, the Sheriff took the poster then walked over to the body and knelt down to examine the face then the picture on the poster, after a minute he stood up and walked back to the Marshal, "Yup, that be the same man, I'll call for the Undertaker, you can come by the Office later and pick up this here poster and reward money". Joshua nodded then turned to go,"Didnt do it for the reward", was his calm reply as he stepped outside, then looked around for a saloon, wanting a drink of whiskey to cut the taste of trail dust from his throat.

Joshua walked back to his horse then stopped and noticed it wasnt going to be long before it got dark, and decided he better get a room first. He grabbed the reins and lead the horse inside the Livery stable just as some of the local menfolk were carrying the body of Blackie out. He paid for a stable for the night, unsaddled his horse then paid the Stableboy alittle extra for him to give the good hay and some oats to his horse. Grabbing his Saddlebags, He left the Stables and made his way down the boarded walkway, tipping the brim of his hat to the Ladies and nodding his head toward the men as he passed them, but for the most part they seemed to more interested in staring at the silver star pinned to his chest.

He made his way on down to the Inn, noticing it was across the dirt street from the Saloon he asked for a room towards the back of the building as he signed his name in the Inns ledger and paid for the room. The Innkeeper had a boy run his saddlebags up to the room. Joshua asked for and got instructions from the Innkeeper on how to get to the telegraph Office then stepped back outside of the Inn, took out his tobacco pouch and rolled a smoke, striking a wooden match on the post next to him, he took a puff then glanced over to the Saloon before crossing the street, then turning to his right and walked down the wooden planked walkway till he came to the Telegraph Office at the end of the row of buildings. He sent off a telegram to the Judge in Sweetwater informing him of Blackies death and requested his next assignment. He asked the Telegraph agent where he could get some grub and was about to tell the Agent to bring him any reply message when the telegrph ticker began clicking wildly, he waited for the Agent to write down the letters of the various alternating clicks, then took the piece of paper the Agent held out for him when he was down writing.

--- To Joshua Hawkes U.S. Marshal stop---
---Being reassigned to judgeship in the town of Yornly Wissleon County stop---
---requested you as my Marshal stop---
---meet you there, secure building for new courthouse stop---
---be there as soon as business concluded here stop---

fortunately the Telegraph office had a wall map of the surrounding area and with a little help from the Agent, he was able to locate the tiny black dot the represented the town of Yornly, Wissleon County, which looked to be a few das ride from where he was at. Since it was now dark and he'd already paid for a room, he thought twice about going to the Saloon for a drink and instead made his mind up to get a hot meal and a good nights sleep, then head out for Yornly at sunup.

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