the black snake

The best men are not consistent in good-- why should the worst be consistent in evil?

[thatwickedman]

ritari-nimelta-lavinia:

 “No,” she answered, truthfully but with more anger than before. How dare he threaten her in her own home, where he was still unwelcome. “What do you want?” If Grigor Stradden had been so concerned about privacy, he should have called on her at her office in the Barn, or sent for her to visit his. She’d have gone. It was only his fault for not having certainty now.

He was silent for a long time, apparently listening for something: the shuffle of feet, the hitched breathing of an observer, the too-quiet void of someone trying to remain still. He sniffed, catching a disagreeable whiff of animal and dust. Grigor advertised his dislike of horses and creatures and all beasts rather freely.

“I want to know your honest and critical assessment of the rangers as a fighting force,” Stradden said. “Not against the fey, and not against beasts, but against flesh and blood men and women. Before you begin, understand that I ask you this in the most confidential manner, and I do so with the authority of his Majesty, our King Aric of Nore. Try to think of it as caution, not subterfuge. If that helps.”

[thatwickedman]

ritari-nimelta-lavinia:

Grigor Stradden was perhaps the last face she expected to see. He kept to himself, as far as she knew, and certainly never walked in uninvited. His distaste of her stables only served to increase the tension pulling on her shoulders and clenching her jaw. More than that, however, he was in her private space. Her own property, where her beloved horses were kept. No-one was welcome without invitation, much less someone here with business that left them with such a look on their face.

“Then speak it,” Lavinia said. “I will not serve you tea.” She wanted to get it over with as much as he did. Had they been most anywhere else, even her office, perhaps she’d be more patient.

“I would not drink it,” Stradden said, rather plainly. His eyes were hooded with shadows--there was a line around his mouth that had not been there a year ago. “Is there a stableboy or whatever that might be lurking? Do you keep a slave to ... muck, or to clean, or what have you? if there is anyone listening, it will not behoove you to keep silent about it, and it will not benefit them in any way to remain.”

[lottaxthompson-deactivated20160]

What was that?

[thatwickedman]

lottaxthompson:

Why, yes, I am. And you are Grigor Stradden, I would guess? [She was not, after all, entirely dull to the world around her, and knowing names made for a good impression most of the time.] May I help you, sir? Were you seeking me?

You guess right, I am. You are kind to offer, but I do not need your help--nor was I seeking you. Perhaps I only wanted to know if I recognized you. I am still learning faces in the court proper. I do not know everyone quite yet. My time is too much divided.

[thatwickedman]

ritari-nimelta-lavinia:

Lavinia clutched her shoulder where her coat was torn, grunting in a mix of pain and anger. “Vandals,” she said, trudging down the road the her home stead. It wasn’t broken, her shoulder, but it certainly ached enough to give her a good deal of trouble opening the stable door.

Thorn was not happy to be put away so quickly, and Spinner shifted in his paddock at the sound of her pain. “Easy, boy,” she told him. “I will be fine come sunset.” With her good arm, Lavinia reached up to stroke the silver horse’s head, stopping only at the sound of the stable door opening once more.

“This is not public space,” she informed her guest, turning without kindness to see who it was.

“I did not believe it was,” Stradden said. His nose wrinkled at the horse scent--outside of that his face was impassive, completely without his customary sly cheer. He tended to look like he knew the secrets of whoever he was talking to, but in the moment he just seemed like he was rather ready to get whatever it was he had come to do over with. “As it is a private matter that I have come to discuss, I suppose that this space--”

He said that word with no small amount of distaste. He heaved a sigh.

“--will serve.”

[thatwickedman]

ravenspeaker:

Good. Never forget it.

If I am fishing, I will fish. I have had enough mozhers come to me, begging for protection from zhe souzhern queen, and I have grown weary of being told I am zhe only witch zhey see as good. As if it we exist to be kind.

I do not intend to forget anything that you say or do. But neither will I cringe from you. 

No, I suppose you do not. I never imagine that the River Dagur exists solely so that we might catch the fish; I suppose it must just happen that way. Would you call that fate or luck? 

[thatwickedman]

ravenspeaker:

Zhat is not an answer. If I killed all of Nore’s scholars, would you fear me?

It is an answer. I’m surprised that you want me to say definitively yes or no; it feels, if I am honest, a little like a maiden fishing for compliments. Of course I would. I fear you now. I remember walking into a room full of men that you yourself killed. It would not be so different from that moment. Perhaps you do not remember, but I will. Always.

But it is like how I fear the winter. Or old age, or madness. A little. A great deal. Inexorably, intrinsically, instinctively. But in the end I cannot prevent them from anything they are determined to do. The vast nature of that fear, I think, renders it a little pointless to cower or to skitter away. And I do not believe that is how you would like the rest of the world to regard you, besides. Is that an answer you prefer, Ursula?

[thatwickedman]

ravenspeaker:

… [She regards him for a moment.] What would you do if I had eaten zhem all? Would you fear me?

[He doesn’t hesitate a moment before answering.] If you really had, what would I be able to do? 

[thatwickedman]

kingaric-ofnore:

Aric nodded. “She did you well,” he told him. “And clearly it has served you well, else you would not be standing here beside me.”

Grigor shrugged again, letting the truth blend liberally with the long lie he’d made of his life. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I try not to dwell on it, but there are many coincidences of fate that had to come to pass in order for me to stand here, as you say. I am very grateful for her education, to be sure. I had a terrible accent as a boy. Even then the Straddens trafficked some in slaves, and I was always learning little things from them.” 

[thatwickedman]

ravenspeaker:

Of course not. I have eaten zhem all.

Good! I’m glad to see that they nevertheless managed to serve a purpose. 

[lottaxthompson-deactivated20160]

What was that?

[Lotta had heard her name as she passed, but not what followed, and turned to face the speaker, her posture straight and tall in her arrogance. She did hate gossip when it was about her.] I don’t think I quite heard you correctly.

[thatwickedman]

Are you Lady Lotta? That was all.

[kingaric-ofnore-blog]

He watched Grigor for a moment, feeling somewhat like a rebuked child. Surely, his son could not have meant it in that way. He cleared his throat. “You’re becoming quite the philosopher,” he commented as they walked, a smile on his face as he watched the children. “Is this a result of your new position? Or have you always been?”

[thatwickedman]

Again, that strange juggling of truth and careful deceit. “I have always been a little bit prone to it,” Grigor admitted, casting a sideways glance at the king. “Petra Stradden used to argue with me over different schools of thought. To train me to argue and speak well, I think, not to teach me philosophy, or to make me into some scholar to puzzle over mysteries. But it still left a bit of a mark.”

[xxlincoln-marchxx]

“Been wonderin’ the same, meself. In here searchin’ fer a land directory an’ find meself swimmin’ in faerie tales…”

[thatwickedman]

“It’s indicative of what sort of knowledge is better loved in this frozen kingdom. The land directories, among all the rest, tend to be found ... over there, in those piles, usually.”

[anneboleyns]

[miss-marion]

I..I-I meant other people, Sir…

[thatwickedman]

I know what you meant. If two people have heard something, others will hear about it eventually. 

[pure-obsidian]

“Of course not,” Astrid shook her head. “Who am I to run errands for my father? Do you feel interrogated?” The notion made her grin briefly – she’d always been one of many questions. “I have yet to be told the story of how my father the king came to select you for his council, though I doubt not your skill set – I am merely curious, you’ll pardon me for it I hope.”

[thatwickedman]

“No, Your Highness, it was only a question.” Grigor spread his hands, as if to indicate with them there is nothing much to it. “I won’t begrudge you yours. Once or twice I have assisted His Majesty discreetly. I have a good eye for figures and problems, and I tend to resolve things cleanly. Your father the king cornered me one feast day, and offered me a position, independently of whatever I had had in mind at the time. I accepted.”

[kingaric-ofnore-blog]

Aric looked at his son, his eyes travelling the length of the man. “Grigor, are you feeling well? You sound exhausted,” he asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice. There were others around and it did not look right for a King to care this much about one of his advisers. While Aric cared little (though he probably should), he knew it would mean more to Grigor. “You might be right,” he added after a moment’s pause, “Depending on the fate, of course.”

[thatwickedman]

“Surely ‘exhausted’ veers dramatic. I am just as I always am,” Grigor said. He ignored Aric’s gaze, preferring instead to watch a child string up fish for sale by the mouths. He stepped neatly over the reeking filth, the hem of his cloak hooked over his arm. He cared very little for this concern, and it was a battle to show it and not show it in careful measures on both sides. “Depending on the fate. Certainly. And like luck, I suppose, it can only be mitigated; the dice, so to speak, fall as they will.”

[thatwickedman]

“Gods save me. How anyone could call this fitful mess ‘organized’? ... Are there any scholars left in the university? At all?”