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    1. Count Numbers 6 yrs ago

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Tristan waits for Mort's answer. These are very good questions, and he's excited to hear the answers.

If he were to add anything - oh, go on then - "Does the King have any heirs? I've talked to a lot of bards." He really has. Tristan listens to anyone that will tell him things, and bards will keep telling you things as long as you can stand to listen. He might be a little more devoted to folk heroes than is strictly healthy, as a result. "They would say - well, if it's blood, then Pellinore would be felled today, and it would be something for her heir to avenge. Or a black sheep of the family to prove their lineage, and reclaim their birthright. That sort of thing makes for the better story." He says, knowingly.

He has heard stories about the Oracles, of prophecies that baited the listener into the action that fulfilled it. "If you cross the river, a great empire will be destroyed", that sort of thing.

He trusts Merlin to be on their side. But if King Pellinore isn't... it would make sense to give a prophecy with enough slack to tie a noose from, right? One that might exploit a bold, brash temperament, to bait them into folly. That sounds like something Merlin would do! Which could also mean Nin is right too!

Tristan feels very clever for having worked this out.

"Merlin says so?" Tristan looks askance at Nin. "Then it must be." This is a conviction, now.

'There is a whiff of rot to all this, but surely Merlin is with us?' The alternative is too heartbreaking to think about.
Look, the Fool's not here to not pull levers. Here's one - a layer of dust thick as peanut butter on a sandwich, over what may have been brass. Hopefully brass, the Fool didn't think to bring oil. Are these cobwebs? Have any spiders been here? They must have - what else would be there to bring misfortune to the flies?

Clank.

Let's see how all the king's forces and all the king's men hold this one together.
Nin presents a knot of very compelling logic, but Occam's razor cuts it thusly:

The questing beast is a big, scary monster, and Pellinor was nice to me. I am myself a hunter, and I am obviously not a villain for it.

Her point about the badger - wasn't that his thinking? Did the badger scare him so much to change his mind on it? When did that happen? When he sighted it with his arrow? He shifts his weight as he rides.

"Maybe," Tristan says, unconvinced. "I could see it being true. But even if it is true, the best we can do is join her hunt in good faith. While we do, the badger is our true target, and we are acting within our own rights to hunt it. I don't want the sword we choose to fall on to end up in anyone else's back..."
The Fool has a lever to find, and so begins looking for it. It would be here, of all places, wouldn't it?

Every action has an equal and opposing reaction - in physics and in performance. They are less interested in their actions, here, than the reactions. Those should be plum.

"We're going on a lever hunt!
We're going to to pull a big one!
What a beautiful day!
We're not scared!
" The Fool sings at the top of their lungs as the whirring blades are within arm's reach now. Even folded across their chest, they snap their fingers to the beat, and they tilt their feet back and forth like a metronome.

"Uh oh!
Blades!
Big, sharpened blades!
We can't go over them!
We can't go through them!
Oh no!
We've got to go under them!
"

Lucien laughs, curling up a little from the force of it (not enough to lift their head into danger, enough to make you worry about it) finger snaps still keeping time. The laugh is just as important a part of the chorus as any of the words, you see.

"Come on, m'lord! You know this one. Every good parent does, even most of the bad ones! Sing us the next verse?"
Tristan is not insulted by this at all - these are his values as well, his father's values. It's part of why he has to train so feverishly, to find his worth where he can. He's achingly proud of his duties to the common good, but there is a greater pride in serving a worthy lord, and serving them well. King Pellinor (for now) seems worthy.

"I hunt within my rights, and make no trespasses." This is true, as far as he knows. He's hunted deer and wolves before, but he was definitely allowed to do that. Definitely. He'll double check when he gets back. "I appreciate the kindness, your King has shown us more than was expected or owed. How fair is your lord, typically?"
"There is another option," Tristan says to Nin, before Mort has had a chance to ride up, "we could go and find the badger now, after all. If the Beast is what's driving it out of the woods, then this might be our best chance to slay it on fair ground. Leave Pellinor to her hunt, and let us have ours. It's not safe for either of them to live. Pellinor disquiets me, but I see nothing to show why her goals do not align with ours."

"If our goals align, it'd be best to hunt the beast now, and maybe ask if the King would help us? I am confused as to what virtue there is in saving the beast, or from sabotaging someone who has done us a kindness."

*

Tristan will not pause to size Mort up before answering, and will immediately reply: "My liege is the common good, in service to all. The hunt for our quarry was interrupted by yours - we seek a badger the size of four horses, at least." Tristan tries to err on the safe side of hyperbole, here. "In truth, I am afraid of it. If we assist you in your hunt, might you assist us in ours?"

He's a trusting boy, isn't he?

If he's wrong, let Nin tell him why, that he may trust her more.
Tristan's taken the reins by virtue of being the first one up, but he's also the one with the bow. Now's not the time to switch, though. "How good are you at the reins? Don't take them yet - there's something strange about the King, but my eyes deceive me. What do you make of them?"

"Impeccable craftwork," Lucien admires. "Have you ever picked a lock, Carinadir? I don't think you'd like it at all. It teaches you that even the best work has flaws. Small differences between the pins in alignment can - perhaps it might be best if I just showed you?"

The machine is perfect, but the Station is warped and crooked.

Lucien finds a very good bit of floor - which is to say, a very bad bit of floor - and lies down before the machinery, arms folded over their chest, as if waiting to die.

[Roll: 5, 3 +1 = 9 on Grace = I get there quickly, avoiding all harm]

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