Winter Acquires the Funds

A Few Nights Ago In The Town Of Mayfield...

The room was well lit, except in the corners where thieves and assassins usually met to settle their unlawful affairs. Winter Silversmith leaned back in his heavy but pleasantly padded oak chair against the corner wall of the Mouse & Lion Tavern in Mayfield. The candlelight danced on his face and around the table illuminating another person. A human female in her late seventies was seated across from Winter. She was dressed in traditional elder human garments with one exception. Around her neck was a beautiful silken scarf identifying her as, at least at one time, being of the gypsy culture.

The Tavern in Mayfield

“Your ama ('mother' in Basque) loved you very much” the woman said as she reached over and touched Winter’s arm gently with her wrinkled hand.

“I know Sara but she could have stood up to ‘The Baron’ and not let him send me away” Winter said in an anguished voice.

“The Baron… why do you insist on calling him that, he was your father” she said scolding Winter. “It is strange why you choose to ignore your geltokia ('station'), you choose to be a simple farmer, when with your lineage you could own grand regions of farmland”, Sara said as she looked questioningly at Winter.

Winter averted his gaze away from Sara “You know why” Winter said “And I have told you not to talk of it in public someone could hear you and that Euskal ('Basque') tongue of yours these are troubling times for Humans in these parts”. Winter paused for a moment to take a sip of his ale, licking his lips and letting the golden honey taste linger in his mouth before swallowing it down. “Besides, he was no father to me” Winter said as he glanced expectantly at the door coming into the Tavern. “You need to go; he will be here soon”.

“I never get to meet your lagun... I mean your ‘friends’” said Sara with a thick English accent “I hardly know who you are these days”.

“He is not a friend” Winter said nervously “please Sara you must leave” as he motioned for the door.

“Fine, I am leaving, agur ene anaia ('goodbye my brother')” Sara stood up and leaned over to give Winter a hug. Winter remained seated giving Sara a half hearted hug in return clearly preoccupied by his pending business. Sara looked hurt at first then gave a loving smile. In the years since she had reunited with her older brother she knew he was not one to show much emotion in public. This meeting clearly bothered Winter though and that had Sara worried for her brothers’ safety. She left the Tavern to calm his anxiety as best she could.

A few minutes passed before a man in a dark cloak entered the Tavern, walked across the room, and sat down opposite Winter. “Baron von Silversmith” the stranger said with a deep nod of his head.

“It is JUST Silversmith, NO von NO Baron, but you already know that Foster” Winter said sharply almost hissing at the man in clear disgust at hearing his title spoken aloud.

“Aye, that I do, I get a bit flustered in the presence of such fine royalty” Foster said in long drawn speech followed with another nod.

“Pfft” Winter spit out some of his ale “Royalty! Enough of such nonsense, Baron, pfft. We have business to discuss you and me” Winter said bluntly pushing the conversation back on the reason for this meeting.

 

Winter Listens

“Yes, yes, I have the letter you requested. He signed it just yesterday and I brought it to you personally as requested” Foster reached into his pocket to draw out the paper. Winter’s eyes darted around the room to make sure no one he knew was there and his sister had left the building. Foster handed Winter the folded letter. Winter took the letter and placed it in his vest pocket and took another drink of his ale.

“Are you not going to read it?” Foster asked.

“I am sure it is sufficient” Winter said as he emptied his mug “Please extend my thanks to the vicar for his charity” Winter chuckled mockingly.

Foster looked at Winter “You know he would do anything for you, he and your father were like brothers… oh if only you had known your brother Deven he was such a strong and honourable man before…If only you and your lady had been wed then you might be happier I think and had sons of your own”.

“Speak not of that vampire!” Winter spit toward the wall as if to expel any curse that might linger from the mention of his eldest brothers’ name. “And I know, ‘The Saint’ and ‘The Baron’” Winter jeered at the thought but appeared to ignore the latter mention of the lady as he stood up from his chair.

The tavern was beginning to fill up with people as the evening dragged on and it was time to head back to his campsite in the Shire. As he walked away he sighed and paused mid step “Does she speak poor of me?” Winter asked looking toward the bar.

“Kari is happy… wed with four strong sons she speaks poorly of no one – including you Baron, I mean m’Lord” said Foster.

Winter placed his right hand on his left vest pocket. He could feel his heart beat through the layers of wool and crinkled letter paper. With a deep breath he blinked the moisture from his tired eyes and left the Tavern into the night.