[hider=Castle Ghomyre, Present Day]
"Your Majesty did...what?" asked Daigon.

King Harold snorted disdainfully, leaning forward in Baron Whul's surrendered throne.

"[i]I. sent.[/i]" he said slowly, addressing the assembled soldiery as though they were dim children, "[i]for. the. ranger's... corpse.[/i]"

Veredict Daigon was one of over a dozen captains assembled before the king, and he was not the only one wearing an expression of mild alarm.

"What do you want with a body? Decided this miserable little castle doesn't smell enough like shit?" asked Forrestor Thalmy, the burly mass of muscle and scar tissue that captained the Honorable Men, a free company with a reputation twice as bloody -and half as honorable- as any mercenary band east of Sour Fenn. 

Daigon suspected that Thalmy and his horde of rapers and cutthroats were one pay day away from leaving the royal service and looting what remained of Vendland on their way home. Which was a shame, since Forrestor was awfully fun to get drunk with. But Daigon didn't blame him. Victory had not made His Majesty any better company, nor made payment more regular.

"I've heard disquieting rumors," said the King. There was an long silence as the commanders waited for further information. His Majesty did not deign to elaborate.

"What sort of rumors, my lord?" asked a cadaverous man to Daigon's left. His voice was soft, almost girlish, and his pale face ornately tattooed with the swirling sigils of the Kin. To those who could read such barbarous script, the tattoos marked him as one of the Boros tribe. And they marked him out as an exile. As a murderer. As a warlock.

Rikmand, perched next to the throne, twitched like he'd been bitten. "I've not seen you before- who are you, to address the King?!"

"I lost my name when I lost my clan," said the tattooed stranger in his soft voice.

Daigon smiled, "But [i]we[/i] know and love him as the [i]Tally Man[/i]. He is the paymaster for my company. Keeps the Red Fangs' accounts in order. I've decided to bring him to these little, errr...what's the word? Not gatherings. Certainly not parties, or we'd be drinking. [i]Audiences[/i] from now on. Given the, ah, complexity of the pay schedule, it's easier to have the money-men on hand, no?"

A general murmur of dissatisfaction went up from the captains. Harold signaled for quiet.

"Your pay is on the way, along with Brand of Nightwood. It will arrive before nightfall next."

"Why'd you stash a body with our pay? I don't want no cursed gold," said Thalmy.

"My men won't take payment in corpses, Majesty," said Daigon, "Well...except for the ghouls. We do have a few ghouls."

"Your japery is not appreciated," said the King, "When the body arrives, I wish you, Captain Daigon, to conjure Brand's spirit. I wish to question the ranger."

"Oh," said Daigon, "Your Majesty...."

"Ridiculous, unnatural," said Thalmy, echoed by several of the other captains- even the ones from the royal guard, "All this witchery will have a bad end. What information do you need that only a body can tell?"

"I am tired of being questioned. Constant insolence," said Harold, "You are all dismissed. Daigon stay."

"Highness, may I again-" began Rikmand.

"Get out," said Harold through gritted teeth.

Daigon exchanged a muttered word with Thalmy as the latter trudged from the crowded throne room along with the other courtiers and captains. He motioned for the Tally Man to stay.

"This one is always by your side these days," said the king.

"My own personal Rikmand," said Daigon, "Everyone needs one."

Harold sneered. "Brand of Nightwood was a cult figure. He had a circle of devotees and lickspittles. Some of them are known to be dangerous."

"I am aware of Brand's reputation," said Daigon, "Though none of these 'dangerous' devotees showed up to protect him in the end."

"Several men were killed in Bosfryd the other day, and the captain there reported back in a daze. Bewitched, seemed like. Talking about war. Vengeance for Brand. William's corpse spoke of it too."

"A few dead sellswords isn't a war."

"I want the town razed, the smallfolk put to the question."

"[i]That[/i], Your Majesty," said Daigon, "is more likely to rekindle a war. One you can ill afford."

"Then question this corpse like you did the other. Find out about these rangers."

"The Art is more fickle than that, Majesty. And too dangerous for cavalier use."

"Cavalier?! This is my kingdom. [i]My reign, Daigon, my legacy[/i]. Risks everywhere. You could have extracted more from Barkstead's corpse. The ritual need not have been so brief- when the ranger's corpse arrives you will not release the bindlings until I allow it. Until I have my questions answered. All of them."

Daigon and the Tally Man shared a wordless glance.

"Your Majesty seems....newly well informed regarding augury," he said.

"I know more of the dark arts than you imagine, Captain."

"Someone sending you suggested reading?"

"I am King. If I need information, I can obtain it."

"I see," said Daigon, "Well, when the body arrives, we'll see what can be done with it."

"Good. You may go."

Daigon and the Tally Man left the throne room in silence. Once outside in the bustling outer court, Daigon turned to his apprentice.

"Find out who is whispering in the King's ear, telling him about augury and the Art," said Daigon, "Last thing we need is Harry becoming a half-assed sorcerer. Or a real sorcerer using the King for [i]their[/i] ends. We want him for [i]our[/i] ends, after all."

"I'll look into it," said the Tally Man.

"Good, and tell Zarak to get a foraging party together."

"Going raiding?"

"No, going to Bosfryd. Going to find out what in Azoth's name is going on."
[/Hider]

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