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A system to our fantasy madness (for Zaval and Blurugirl)

"My compliments all the same, ser Gordan," Morcant said respectfully. "And however incidental it all was, I am honored to be the one to fulfill the prediction you made of Misia." Even as his single good eye practically bore a hole through to his soul, Morcant did not flinch from his gaze. He had a healthy respect for seers, no matter where they hailed from - and the stories of the Norse fates as they communed with their gods were not to be trifled with.

Setting down his food, he reached out with his right hand and clasped his palm to Gordan's firmly. He just hoped that this would not be an out of body experience again...
 
The bard's hand disappeared into the larger one of the North Man. A silence enveloped the table and seemed to radiate out.

The old man studied Morcant intently for an interminable time before releasing his hand. The North Man then pulled two bags out of his hand. One was filled with white, fine pebbles. The other was filled with small, flat stones with runes carved in them.

The old man tossed the pebbles on the table between him and the bard, then threw the rune stones on top of them. Three of the rune stones formed a rough triangle. The old man studied them, then looked up at the bard.

"Born," he began, pointing to one stone. He drew a line in the pebbles between that stone and a second. "Child," he declared, then drew a stone between the second and the third stone. "Woman." And finally he completed a triangle in the pebbles, and when he reached the first stone he stated simply, "Death."

"If my daughter consents to go with you," the old man said, "And only if she consents, she may only travel between these two points." The old man indicated the two stones he had designated 'Ch8ld' and 'Woman.' "If she stays on this line, she will live a happy and long life. If she leaves this line, death will come to her before her time. And death will come for you as well." The look on the North Man's face made it clear who would be bringing that death to Morcant.

The old man stood up and picked up his rune stones, but left the small pebbles on the table. "Eat and drink your fill. When you are ready, your room, Misia and my daughter will be that way." The old man pointed to the door the two young women had already passed through. Without a further word, the Norse Man stood up and made his way to the kitchen while other servers made their way through the common room.
 
Morcant blinked, and stared after the older man as he stood up and left. Did...did he just give his blessing to take his daughter with him? And the runes indicating 'child' and 'woman,' did that mean-?

Morcant quietly finished his meal, a red tinge to his face that couldn't be ascribed entirely to ale. First Misia, now possibly Alsa? He wasn't complaining, but what was happening to his life? And which god did he owe a generous offering to?

Or was he misinterpreting this all entirely?...that was possible too.

Regardless, as he stood up (leaving a healthy tip for the servers as he went), he moved towards the door. If this was going to happen, he needed Misia's input on this...
 
Beyond the door was a small room with a handful of tables, similar to those in the main common room. The room, however, was better well lit and, thanks to the thick door separating it from the main common room was much, much quieter.

At one of the table were a couple of bruisers talking and sharing a drink. When they saw Morcant walk in, one of them stood up as to intercept him. At another table, Alsa and Misia were talking when Alsa spotted Morcant entering.

"It's okay, Birger, he's a guest," she told the standing man. The man nodded, then returned to the table with his friend.

Misia turned and smiled at Morcant, waving him over. "This way, bard. This is a common room in small, meant for the family, since everyone who works here, or lives in the back quarters from time to time, is family of sorts. Those two are Alsa's cousins. They serve as deterrents in the common room from time to time and also as guardsmen for groups heading westward, or to the great houses nearby." The two burly cousins nodded before turning back to their conversation.

"Please take a seat, Morcant," Alsa said, gesturing toward an empty seat at their table. "Misia was telling me you are a learned man and a troubadour from the far west. It sounds exciting. Myself, I have never been beyond this village since coming here as a child. I am content with that, though I do enjoy tales of other lands. So is Fadir," she added. "I'm surprised he didn't have you applying your trade in the common room."
 
"As was I," Morcant admitted as he accepted the offered seat. He gave an affable nod to the pair guarding the separated room - no sense ticking off the protective muscles by being rude after all. "And I dare say I'm still willing to ply my trade of stories, but that may come in time anyhow."

Sitting down, he shared a look with Misia, his hand stretching beneath the table to squeeze her hand gently. "As for myself...I've always wanted to travel. See new sights, learn more stories. Share them with new and interesting people, and learn more yet again." Flashing a simple, if warm, smile, he studied Alsa for a moment. Did she know that her father would give permission to travel with him? Possibly as a lover? It was, though, still her choice...

"I've traveled far, yet I still need to see more," Morcant said. "I could tell you so many tales, of the amazing and the mundane. Some may even be true!" He made an exaggerated expression of spreading his arms in shock. "But the real joy is going there. Learning for yourself, and crafting new stories along the way. It's an experience all should try!" He went just shy of inviting her to come along, though the suggestion was there. And he would need to discuss that with his wife first...
 
Misia returned the surreptitious hand squeeze, giving Morcant a smile.

"I've heard similar talk from Misia," Alsa answered. "Myself...well, I like the stories, but I want to hear the stories, not live them. A warm fire to cook over, a cellar to go down into to bring up vegetables, being able to haggle over the price of so many fish, or so much barley...that's the kind of life I want."
 
"I can respect that," Morcant said. "There is something to be said about having a home and hearth to return to, to regale friends and family with stories of adventures. But surely you would wish to see the world a little?" Morcant wasn't pressing too hard - he ultimately respected Alsa's wishes, and he most certainly did not wish to cross her father's ire. "Even if one travels, however, they always need someone who can watch the hearth and ensure a warm, welcoming home is ready for those who venture out."

He shrugged, knowing it was up to her in the end. "But tell me, Alsa, what stories inspire you the most?" he asked. He glanced over to his wife, a sly look to his eyes - he was certainly curious what they were talking about before. "Has Misia told you stories of her home?"
 
"Her home growing up on the steppes, or her home in the village around Lady Rythia's manor? Have you met Lady Rythia," Alsa asked. "She is a great lady. Even Fadir is in a little awe of her."

"But I've heard stories of both," Alsa continued. "I...please don't take this wrong, Misia, I love hearing tales of you growing up on the steppes. But it's not a place I want to visit. The most excitement I ever had was when I met you, and that's enough for me." Alsa turned to Morcant to explain. "I was barely twelve summers old when I first met Misia. I was traveling from the village I was born in to here. I've actually only been two places in my life, you know. Anyway, relatives of ours...a far branch of the clan...they had a disagreement with Fadir, and well, they decided to settle it the way Fadir's people do. Misia was there to provide a very thorough one woman counterargument. She'd be able to tell you more about it better than I could." The look Alsa gave Misia was one of pure heroine worship.

"Yes, well, I would have handled it better if it happened today," Misia said, both embarrassed by and basking in Alsa's adoration. "I would have fought them, of course, and won, but I had a flair for the dramatic when I first started adventuring," Misia explained to Morcant. "I like to think I'm more meticulous and thorough now. Mind you, drama is useful, of course, but I used to enjoy drama for drama's sake."

"Anyway," Alsa continued, "If I do move again, I'd want to have a home where I could attend the hearth and home, waiting for others to return to hear those tales. That's all the traveling I want to do."
 
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Morcant watched the back and forth between the two friends with a smile on his face. There was clearly a deeper story to be told here, yet the glory in it was that the shared experiences told more than even his words ever could. "I hope to learn of this story someday," he said genuinely. "I could surely spin a song or tale out of it! Mark my words, I could make sagas, until your story is sung from Gaul to Sparta!" Well, perhaps not that far - certainly to Corinth, perhaps...

Still, Alsa's insistence was enough that Morcant wasn't comfortable pushing her any further - especially when her best friend was sitting there next to him. "I understand," he said with a nod. "You cannot blame me for trying - you would have enjoyed it, I think. That is your choice, but!" Holding up a hand theatrically, he said, "I may come back one day - with her permission," he added quickly, remembering his promise to Misia. "One day perhaps I will have that home and hearth established with Misia - and when I do, I hope to convince you one day to come back with us. I know not if it will happen, but it is a goal of mine." He bowed his head slightly to the daughter of the seer.

"So hopefully it will be. I am still grateful for the hospitality you have shown us."
 
"Actually, we do have home and hearth, Morcant," Misia interrupted. "I even told you about it after---" Misia suddenly turned red and shut up.

"After?" Alsa asked, a sly little smile coming to her lips.
 
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If anyone ever asked him, Morcant would insist that this was an intentional flub on his part. Not that he'd forgotten Misia's household. No. That was his story, and he would take it to his dying breath.

"Well, it is not my place to say," Morcant said. "I could tell it, but not without her approval on this one." The hand gripping hers tightened; he'd never deliberately embarrass her.
 
"Yes, well, let's tell that story later," Misia said, now glowing red, as Alsa grinned at her friend's discomfort.

"Now that is a place I'd like to visit," Alsa said, "Your home and hearth, that is. I suspect it's not as warm a place as it could be, as much as Misia roams. But I am curious, Morcant, about one thing. Did my father cast his rune stones for you?"
 
"He did," Morcant admitted. He saw no reason to be deceptive about it. "To the best of my knowledge, he claimed that if you agree to travel with us, so long as you are kept safe you will live a long, healthy and happy life." He wasn't entirely sure how she would react if he told her the lines that Gordan had relayed to him - especially with Misia seated next to them both. She had agreed that additional women were not a problem so long as that woman met her standards, and they were friends...but he wanted to play this somewhat safe.

"How...much do you know about his readings?" he asked. "This was the first time I had my Fate read by a seer. I have heard stories, but never actually experienced it before..."
 
"They're always truthful, but..." Alsa shrugged, and Misia laughed, releasing Morcant's hand from underneath the table.

"The but is that it's like looking through the world through...have you ever seen what lightning does to sand when it strikes a beach?" Misia asked. "It's like that. You're seeing the world, but it's kind of warped."

"Another problem is that people hear what they want to hear," Alsa said, giving Misia a knowing look. The Sarmaritan woman had the good grace to duck her head and blush. "Sometimes people want a certain answer, so they don't pay attention to what was exactly said. For example, Fadir might have said you would come into a fortune of gold, which you hear, but you don't hear what he says about how you'll die if you go after that fortune."
 
"Well...fair enough, really," Morcant said. He could understand that - men and women would believe something if it would benefit them, after all. He'd heard stories of the fabled Oracle of Delphi, and how the downfall of men came from not understanding the gods' message to them. Granted, much of it felt like the gods were simply toying about with the mortals' expectations, but...well. If they all were wise people who instantly knew what the gods were saying, the stories wouldn't be that interesting, would they?

"Still. If you wish to travel, to visit our home, then come. I for one would love to return to a hearth that has had your attention." He gave an open, honest smile - he really did mean that. And Misia likely would appreciate having a friend nearby - Morcant for one also hoped to make the home somewhat more permanent than it sounded like it was. "Travel with friends, new surroundings - do think about it, please."

Feeling like he'd finally exhausted his options speaking to Alsa about traveling, he looked at Misia. Aside from her embarrassment from Gordan's previous readings, how was she taking this so far? Did she have an inkling of what Alsa's father had suggested?
 
"Well, I would ask Fadir, but his seeing doesn't work on me...not directly," Alsa said.

"Well, if your Fadir said it would be okay to travel with us...were those his words?" Misia asked Morcant.
 
"So long as we keep her safe," Morcant confirmed. "And if you do - I will not press you to decide now, but if you do - I swear before the gods that I will do everything possible to keep you safe, and to ensure that you live a long and healthy life, to make sure you see plenty of summers and winters as you tend the hearth and home and live that life you described that you always wanted. Just...in different places than here." He paused. "If you want, that is."
 
Alsa shrugged. "Well, it does sound interesting. At least to see your home and Lady Rythia's manor," Alsa said. "I have to admit, though, that I was surprised by how straightforward my father's message was. Usually there's quite a bit of room for interpretation."

"We can definitely show you all that, though we will need to make a slight detour before we head that way," Misia answered.
 
Morcant paused - then decided to fully explain. "He did say this, though," Morcant said slowly. "'Woman, child, death.' And if you stayed between woman and child, you will live a long life. I'm to make sure you don't come anywhere near death." He shook his head. "I admit to believing it was straight forward enough, but I can never be sure with visions."

He turned to Misia. "Where do we need to go?" He asked.
 
Before Misia could comment, Alsa asked, "How exactly did he say it? I don't consider myself adept at the reading of rune stones, but I do know how things are said are just as important as what is said."
 
Morcant paused, his mind recollecting what Gordan had told him. Taking bits and pieces of bread crumbs as stand-ins for the runes that he had scattered about. "Born," he said, his memory still fresh from moments ago, "Child, Woman, Death." Having completed the triangular pattern, he recited Gordan's vision. "If you consent to go with me - and only if then - you must stay between Child and Woman. Only then will you have a happy, healthy life...veer away, and Death will occur." He left out the explicit threat of violence on his person if he ever allowed that to happen to Alsa.

"This...is why I am, but am also not, pressing you to join," he said. "You are Misia's friend, and I don't want anything to befall you." Especially if it involves having Northmen howling for my blood, he added mentally. "But if you have any insight on what this means...?"
 
Alsa's face settled into a frown as she tried to make sense of the whole thing.

"I wish Lady Rythia was here," Misia said, also frowning. "But she doesn't plan to travel any time soon. Her last trip out was to come find...well, you," she told Morcant. "And I suspect she will shut herself up in her library when she gets the scrolls and tomes from the vault we opened." A slight flush appeared on Misia's cheeks at the memory about how she and Morcant had "opened" that vault.

"You know, we have a Greek noblewoman staying with us," Alsa said. "She studies maps and peoples and also knows shapes. There is a whole study to shapes, about their relationships to each other and their parts. My apologies," she added, "If you discuss the shape of anything but what is being cooked, I'm lost. But maybe she can give us some insight into your reading. Fadir won't, of course. Once he gives a reading, he doesn't have anything else to do with it. He says that deciphering the reading is solely the task of the individual the reading was given to.:
 
Morcant simply grinned cheekily at Misia's flushed face. Leaning in to whisper in her ear, he said, "When I learn how to ride, I'll be more than happy to remind you about that," he promised her, "every single night if you'll have me." It was a long way off, but Morcant was nothing if not an able student - and he did his utmost to keep any promise he made. This one he had a rather vested interest in keeping!

"Perhaps we could meet her?" he suggested. "And if you choose to stay, then I imagine we will visit quite often." Morcant was unsure of what exactly Gordan's vision entailed for him - only that he was faced with the maddening caveat all those who saw seers did. They provided the prophecy - it was up to the hapless mortal to figure it out. And, for as much as he thought Alsa was a vision of beauty, he wasn't willing to possibly risk her life for it. "What is her name?"
 
"Thenais," Alsa answered. "She is apprenticed to two Greek masters, one in maps and stories, the other in...well, the other I'm not sure how to describe him. Thenais tells the most marvelous stories about her two teachers. She learns about how things work in the world, not just shapes. Not magic, mind you," Alsa answered. "But why things work the way they do in the normal world. Let me see if I can find here. You two stay right here, and I'll bring back drinks along with Thenais."

When Alsa left, Misa placed her fingers on her forehead, rubbing her temples. "I am regretting bringing you up here, Morcant. There were things in my reading that made me think...well, I do not know what to think." She threw up her hands in frustration. "I know sword and bow and horse. I am a daughter of the steppes. That's all I really am supposed to know. There other things..."

Misia shook her head and gave Morcant a wan smile. "I hope I will be worth the patience that you are showing, Morcant."
 
"For you? Without a doubt," Morcant promised her. When he was confident that no one was looking, he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on Misia's lips. Nothing that overstayed its welcome, but enough for her to understand the point. "Even if I cannot make sense of my own reading, it was good to meet your friend either way." It did frustrate him, but he'd rather not have someone's fate on his hands if he could not properly read it. And if he was honest, the gods would have a way to force the issue one way or the other anyhow - he'd just have to deal with it as best he could.

"What does Lady Rhythia do?" he asked. He'd met her briefly, but he knew very little about her. "I only know that she is a leader of sorts to you and others..."
 
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