1866-04-15: Red in the Lands of Fallow
Red in the Lands of Fallow
Summary: A Steward and a Man in Red have a chat after a particularly heated Court in Ironwatch's main hall.
Date: 4/15/1866
Related: Metalmire and the Fallow Lands; follows after this scene.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:

Unknown Person 1
Unknown Steward

The knights and Stewards filed out of the main hall of Ironwatch. One man finds himself with a humble looking Monk by his side wearing the tabard of a Relient over his monastic robes. He raises an eyebrow and then the Steward speaks to the man softly. “Relient. I didn’t take you for one of their Ilk.”

The Man in Red smiles slightly, “There is much that you wouldn’t take me for. Is it done?” He asks just as quietly as they walk casually down the halls speaking softly so that none may hear them. His eyes search the area carefully, while his ears scan for anything. It is rare for the Man in red to be anywhere, let alone HERE, but such was the import of his mission that he simply could not send one of his minions.

With a nod the Steward speaks. “It is. The Rook is here, and he will take the field when the time is right. But how did the Queen know of your moves?” He looks to his companion and arches an eyebrow. He doesn’t expect an answer, he doesn’t even know the man’s name, only this persona, just not normally in Relient Garb. The last time he saw him, the man was a simple bard with a red cloak.

The man in red smiles and shakes his head. “Sometimes an apprentice moves a pawn at just the right time. This was one such occurrence. An annoyance I assure you. Nothing else.” He turns to leave, walking toward his own quarters in an Inn in the city. Perhaps he will taste some fo the local wines. He had heard that there was a Galenthian Red that practically wet the lips before being sipped. He’d have to try that and some of the locals themselves.

The Steward stopped. “How will I get in touch with you?”

The Man in Red said nothing.

In his Inn, the Man in Red carefully set out the chessboard. With precision he set pieces where they went, one after the other. It was by design that he placed the Black right Rook last. His finger lingered there for a moment. “Templars are just so hard to kill.” With a casual gesture he tipped the black rook over.

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