Subject: A Shadow On The Keep
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Posted on: 2015-02-08 00:11:00 UTC

In the deep shadows and warm places of the new barony, the Scapegrace watched and wondered. There was work here, work for her people - the people of the road, the nameless and the nothing-bearers, the Lurking-Kind. She saw, and it was good.

The baronial castle of Lady Iximaz was shaping up to be a fine thing indeed, crouched atop a hillock like a fat toad waiting for the flies. And flies would come, and filth, and gold; a town would spring up around the castle to trade along the river, and the people would need things, and the nothing-bearers would be moved on, again. Unless, unless...

"Lady Iximaz. A good title, and earned." Scapegrace grinned, showing teeth that ought not to be shown in public where children might see. "I too will pay my taxes. Here." She fished in a pocket and produced a few coppers, flipping them into a chest. "My service is yours. The ones who wait and see are yours as well. I would curtsy, but my bones are aching of a winter's travel. Beggars an' health are swiftly parted."

She withdrew something else from her tattered parody of finery - a thin, steel thing, pitted with rust but still dangerous-looking, a burnt-orange line in the air, it seemed. "I've no blade to offer save this. No knight am I. No fine sword an' horse an' servants to make obsequies at me all day. Some fights, though, a good and noble knight," she almost spat the words, thought that might have been a rattling cough talking, "cannot fight, nor can gentle folk carry every day. 'Tis enough, though, oh yes... 'tis enough, in the proper place. For is that not the business of a fine and noble lady?"

There was a blur. A turnip was skewered, ripped from its sealed crate by the bony hag, who secreted it about her person along with the metal and a few of the more valuable looking splinters. "The knowin' of proper places."

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