Of Crows and Jackdaws

Part 1 - A Discreet Arrival

The streets of the small city of Ostwood were quiet. People were walking about, carrying out their business, but they were not speaking.

Sometimes, a voice would rise only to utter a few words. There were no pleasantries, no singing, no joking, no bickering, no endless haggling and bartering. The two paved squares that he had crossed were nearly deserted, and the shutters of the timbered houses were seldom open.

Barcias would rather have been greeted by a raucous southern crowd and even a few boisterous swashbucklers. He had just walked into town with his mule, and he elected to first find an inn, where he would surely be able to rest, get some food, and hopefully find a knowledgeable fellow who would give him directions.

As Barcias was getting closer to city hall, the streets were becoming slightly more agitated. The main square, while far from overcrowded, was quite unlike the rest of Ostwood: about two dozen people were getting agitated and quarrelling, shouting and bellowing.

At the epicenter of the conflict was a man who looked like he had seen only a few winters beyond twenty. He was wearing a doublet underneath a worn out but fitting leather jerkin, both black. His trousers were of a robust brown cloth and his boots were those of a man who had but a single pair, all ragged and well-worn. A few pouches were secured to the belt around his waist, and a larger one hung from the strap slung across his chest. On his shoulders was a gray woolen hood.

"You dared!" cried a man in an extravagant blue outfit, pointing his finger accusingly "You dared to condemn the entire Council in this piece of filth that you nailed on the doors of our Great Hall."

"Bollocks! That is not what my message said. I..."

The man in blue cleared his throat loudly to interrupt him and took out a piece of parchment from his pocket. "'To the members of the illustrious Council of the Most Serene City of Ostwood', and so on, and ah, there: 'All members of this Council, who have consorted or conspired with the Great Adversary, shall be considered enemies of the people of Ostwood and dealt with accordingly.'" He glared at the young man as he held high the parchment so that all could see it.

"You must have added two commas to my writing, Councilman Dovan. I guess I should not have assumed that I was addressing literate people. What I meant, of course, was that those among the Council who are in league with Arphasz and his Craglings should be, well, quartered, or boiled, or burned alive, or maybe cut into pieces and fed to the dogs, whatever strikes your fancy." A few of the gathered townsfolk laughed in their sleeves as the man in blue reread the parchment with a puzzled look on his face. "The only thing of which I accused the members of the Council as a whole was of being a bevy of buffoons."

"What?"

"Wait, was it a swarm of sorry saps, or did I go for something simpler like a flock of fools? I do remember that I wanted to throw in some alliteration."

"How dare you!" said an old bearded man in a voice that trembled with indignation.

"I dare because you are people who think it a good idea to negotiate truces and agreements with practitioners of blood magic, necromancy, and other devilries."

"Dullards and dolts!" said the man in blue, holding the parchment aloft once again.

"Exactly. Thank you."

"Well, at least we are no longer getting attacked in the woods," said a man in a long coat and a rich man's hat.

"You mean they are not attacking your convoys Councilman Thalor. But I'm not teaching you anything when I say that a vampire and his thralls are never sated. They'll resume their attacks eventually."