*Cutter is incredibly amused by this response. He even lets out a few barking laughs. Looking back at the wounded man at his feet, he spies him inching towards the spear again and gives him a sharp kick to the gut.
Mildred’s face darkens more and more as Henry goes on, only brightening a little when he suggests that they can be of help.* “I’m sure my sister, the Lady Shedlund, would overlook the murder of Sir Howard-” She gestures to the man in the tabard, “-if you delivered me safely to her.”
Choke picks through the camp, stabbing some of the corpses with his spear to ensure they’re dead. He pauses at Mildred’s suggestion. “I don’t think your husband would like that too much, m’lady.”
Mildred glares at Choke and returns her gaze to the Faramonds. “If you’re the best he could afford to send I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”
None of the party, including Naimar, know who Sir Howard is, beyond the obvious, which is that he was a knight in the Lady Shedlund’s employ. Very likely a minor noble, otherwise Naimar would have heard of him.
The Lord/Lady Shedlund is a title given to whoever currently owns Little Shedlund (see map - it’s very likely that’s where the group was headed), similar to the Lord Hammerfall title. Sarah Primrose, the Lady Shedlund, has been a widower for nearly a decade now. She hasn’t remarried.
You know what I’ve always loved about us nobles. The fact that we wear the pride of our elevated staions on our sleeves even when that pride is ungrounded and makes us look completely ridiculous to those around us…
Case in point: You. Obviously your good Husband could afford better than you and your benefactors since your entire escort is either dead, incapacitated, or emasculated, and my companions and I have nary a scratch. Or did that thought not enter into that pretty little head of yours as you continue look down that slightly-crooked-but-not-in-an-unflattering-way nose at us. Did you really expect to escape your husband hiring incompetents such as you did? You should be thanking us that it was us that took them out and not some random wandering group of brigands. I doubt you’d get nearly the same hospitable treatment from them as we have given you.
You still haven’t explained why it’s in our best interest to return you to Lady Primrose rather than your husband. I highly doubt too many are going to mourn the poor passing of the noble and gallant Sir Howard, (once again Henry makes no attempt to conceal his sarcasm when mentioning the minor noble’s name) whereas someone of your elevated stature is a significant loss to the side that doesn’t get you. I assure you, My Lady, your death will only come at your own hands while you are under our care, but if you so choose that route, we can easily pin the deed on the heroic Sir Howard. I think your Lord would love to have the head of he that has slain his beloved delivered to him on a silver platter. Heck, even if we do agree to help you, it might make a lovely and pat little cover story, don’t you think? Surely someone of your obvious intelligence, wit, and wisdom must see the benefit to all concerned of this tidy arrangement. But you’ll have to make it worth our while. Because right now, what ultimately happens to you after you are out of our protection, is really no concern of ours.
Mildred crumples beneath Henry’s words and her tone changes from defiance to desperation. “You can’t take me back to Ironhall! I’ll do anything! Just take me to Little Shedlund. Please, I beg you!”
Cutter loses it and explodes with laughter when the Lady Ironhall breaks down into tears. “It ain’t too often you see a noble beg!”
There’s no contextual reason for believing she’s lying, after all it wouldn’t be surprising to learn that her husband would be quite angry with her indeed. But Sohanux can tell that she’s being less than forthcoming.
Do I get any feeling through empathy as to whether or not her desperation is legitimate (well, actually, if she’s going to prostrate herself, she probably is desperate for some reason, since clearly we’re dealing with someone who has spent her entire life pushing others around, and even if her begging is a calculated move, she still had to debase herself to it), and what is causing it (i.e. mortal fear vs. unrealized profit motive).
After giving Mildred some consideration, Henry concludes that she is truly frightened and desperate. The begging is genuine. As to whether she’s actually afraid for her life or is desperate for some other reason, he cannot tell.
Mildred shrieks at the peasant, falling backwards and quickly scooting away from her. “No, you have to take me to Shedlund! Ironhall can’t offer you anything; he’s a weak, broken old man. There’s no future with him for you!”
Well, since you’re so willing to die rather than return to him what’s the difference if he does it or you do it by your own hand? The end result either way is you’re dead and we get paid. I really don’t see how its bad for us since it means one less noble of no use to the world using up the precious air the rest of us who actually serve a purpose in this world, regardless of social station, need to breathe. Plus, we get into the good graces of a man of considerable more power and resources than yourself.
You really don’t have any ken when it comes to the fine art of negotiation, do you?
(All of this is so much canned moonbeams as far as Hrothgar is concerned. What the nobility choose to do with each other’s wives is no concern of his.)
Please. I gave the good Lady my word that no harm would come to her from any other than herself while under our protection. I have never gone back on my word before, and I don’t plan to start now. Particularly over someone like her.
And the plot thickens! So your sister had you marry him, and yet you want to return to her rather than him. Now why is that? Wouldn’t she just send you back?
And one more thing, you say he’s going to kill you, but why would he? A nonviolent man is unlikely to suddenly lose control and kill his wife over her running away for a while. And if he’s a violent man…well, looking at you I see no mark anywhere on that perfect little alabaster skin of yours. I’ve known many men to beat their women, even to the point where they fear for there lives, but I’ve never known one who doesn’t leave a mark.
Something’s smells rotten, and I’m not just talking about the fact I’m downwind from Cutter.
My Lords, I believe we may need to bind this woman…and gag her. Do we have any rope or cloth? I believe I could tie her tight enough. This woman is beyond reason.
Cyrus nods at Cutter, gesturing to move his prisoner away from the sight of Lady Ironhall and the others, and Cyrus follows.
To the prisoner: “Would you rather die now, or face the justice of Lord Ironhall? Whether you answer my questions without hesitation will determine your fate, but you will answer, one way or the other.”
Cyrus will attempt to interrogate the man, to determine who he works for, why he was with Lady Ironhall, and whether he has any allies nearby.
I have plenty of rope. And no doubt some greasy rag somewhere that would be effective at shutting her up. But I don’t believe she is beyond reason. She just is one of those over-priveleged types who have everything handed to her on a platter and has never done a lick of honest work in her life, or really any work for that matter. It’s hard to break one of the belief that they hold all the cards, even when their hand is empty. But we’ve got time for her to see reason. After all, she is our guest, and while under our care, she will not be held prisoner or violated in any way. Of course, should she decide that she doesn’t require our escort, I am no longer under any obligation to protect her, nor can I require anyone else to do her no harm. I think Cutter would find that a more than reasonable situation, wouldn’t you, Cutter?
Anyway, I’m still hoping this whole thing can be resolved without any more harm or bloodshed coming to anyone, but that really depends on how reasonable our guest chooses to be. I have a rather cunning plan in mind, if I might be permitted to brag a bit, but it’s not without risk on our part. It would be safer to just return her to her husband, but we could stand to gain a lot more if we don’t.
Really, it’s up to her. If she can swallow her pride and see that she’s got no other option than to bargain with us, we could all end up in a much better situation. She’d be free of her husband, and we’d get more than what he’s offering. But there is a guaranteed reward out there for bringing her back. And if she doesn’t want to work with us, well, I guess the status quo will be maintained.
He shakes his head and says somewhat to himself, but out loud and anyone who’s listening can hear:
That’s the problem with people these days. They lack imagination…
