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Blasphemer's Travelogue Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2020-12-31 09:04:31 +0000 UTCTavia had nearly finished a nice, luxurious inner scream when a wild-eyed maidservant knocked on the door to tell her that she was invited to the parlour to speak with some guests.
That was not a room she had been in yet, so she had to follow. She tried to be as dignified as possible in her filthy socks.
She could not shake the distinct feeling that she was in trouble. It was hard not to let her shoulders crawl up towards her ears.
That would not do. It was not acceptable. She took deep breaths and tried to find a mantra for the moment.
‘I am calm,’ she told herself. ‘No one here is my manager or my mother. I don’t answer to any of them. They need me and they respect me. I am a strong woman, with 5 years of experience in customer service, and I have had harder days than this.’
That had the benefit of being true, and it was cheering. She felt a bit recovered by the time the maid timidly held open a door for her to walk through.
The room held 3 men. One of them was Moida, and all of them were anxious. They all shot to their feet when she entered.
“Madame,” a stranger began. “Do you know anything about the strange phenomena that just occurred?”
She momentarily considered how funny it would be to feign confusion. “I was consulting,” Tavia said, really leaning into this. “Asking God for a sign. My pardons, I did not think of how it might surprise people.” She did not really try to seem contrite. “And you are?”
There was a pause. They seemed a bit whiplashed, which was about the effect she wanted to have.
“Misters Aguilar and Bontaine,” Moida introduced. He fidgeted. “They will be accompanying us.”
“Good Lord,” Bontaine said, pulling on his neckline. He had a very red face. “Good Lord. You say you were- you were communing?”
“Of course,” Tavia said, just rolling with it. “I am present to act as an intermediary. But that’s not important now. Moida, could we have refreshments? I think that now would be an excellent chance to talk about possibilities for our heading.”
Dazed, Moida nodded and beckoned a servant over. Once they had wine, the group set down into practical discussions. Aguilar and Bontaine were both excused after a relatively short time, but she had a good feeling that they would vouch for her legitimacy.
Using her expert leadership qualities, Tavia had determined that on a long journey, snacks and water would be important. She had not been particularly interested in history, but she remembered reading that a lot of exploration had ended with death of exposure, starvation, or murderous cannibalism.
Not super appealing.
“So, food,” she said. “We need that. Tell me about the plans for provisions.”
Moida rattled off a list, along with estimations of how much weight party members would be expected to carry.
“But we could be gone for months,” Tavia said. She cocked her head. “Years. We can’t carry years’ worth of food and water. How do we get food in the wilderness?”
The nobleman gave her a blank look. “Farming… no, no, ah. There’s hunting, of course.”
...This was some rich person's tunnel vision. She did not want to hinge her health and survival on his ability to provide big game.
She pursed her lips. “We need to be foraging,” Tavia said. “We need people who know how to recognize edible plants and know what is in season, and how to set traps and snares for animals. And water- the human body is 90 something percent water, did you know that?”
“It certainly is not,” Moida said, drawing back. “That is- I apologize, but that is a bit preposterous.”
The look she gave him must have been withering. “You know nothing,” Tavia said, momentarily forgetting that she kind of needed his good graces. “We need people who have experience living off the land. Pay them whatever is necessary- I don’t know, make sure to set it up so that a certain amount goes to their family every month until we return, something like that.”
She had planned to dig her heels in for however long it took to pick over every detail of the plan for going out into the wilderness, which was supposedly largely unexplored where the roads ended and the trees grew thick and ‘tall as pagan gods’. But that plan went out the window when they received a guest.
“That is the lord Faraise,” Moida introduced. His grip on his wine was rather white-knuckled as they watched a man with a large black feather on his hat ascend the stairs with a small entourage on his heels. “He is my peer.”
Tavia gave a sneaky glance at the rather soft, scholarly middle aged man next to her, and then looked back at the sartorially terrifying man stalking across the hall. She made a polite sound, and then Faraise was too close for further discussion.
Moida gave a smile that only looked a little strained. “My lord, thank you for your visit. Have you come to discuss our shared mission?” He set his drink down on the table, and did not offer anything to the ...unannounced, uninvited guest.
Faraise gave a look down his nose that seemed to be ‘utter contempt.’ “No,” he bit out. He gave Tavia a look up and down, outright frowning. “We share nothing. This is the heathen you’ve procured as a means to abdicate responsibility?”
Tavia felt her eyebrows raise. “What a charming man,” she said. “Moida, how have we not been introduced before?”
No one acknowledged her.
“There is nothing heathen about it,” Moida bristled. “I turned to the lord for guidance and was delivered aid. Miss Tavia admittedly is unassuming, but is that not traditional? God speaks through all, and I am quite pleased with her perspective. There have even been signs-”
“This is nonsense, and I will not let it stand.” Faraise looked at her again, visibly disgusted. He had a bit of something pale stuck in his teeth. “Begone, witch, or face the consequences when our Emperor hears of this travesty.” Maybe it was cabbage in his teeth.
She tried not to feel small. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She didn’t know how to respond to that.
Her sponsor cut in and saved her from the need to answer. “Of course, I have already contacted the court,” Moida said, lifting his hands. There was ink on his fingertips. “Thank you for your concerns. However, your assistance is not needed.” By the end of his words, there was a bit of steel in Moida’s tone that Tavia would not have expected.
By the look on his face, Faraise had not expected it either and did not appreciate it. He took in a deep breath and let it out through his teeth. “Indeed.” His jaw clenched. “I take my leave.”
“Safe travels,” Tavia said blandly. Then she watched Faraise stalk away, an unhappy vulture. When he was out of earshot, she made eye contact with Moida and raised an eyebrow.
He picked up his wine and drank it all down. “I think it would be best if we got our arrangements in order and left post-haste,” he said. There was something of the dull resignation she had seen from him before. She was starting to suspect that Moida expected this assignment to end very badly and just wanted to get it over with and avoid consequences for his family.
The next 24 hours or so were a blur, with a pale and red-eyed Heralda sweeping around like a ghost as the traveling party was assembled. Heralda ended up with a seal that apparently empowered her to make financial and business decisions, and was actually the one to sign the hasty contracts for three people who promised to be competent outdoors people. Tavia sought those late arrivals to scope them out.
Number one was a young man with a really cool facial scar that he claimed was from a bear. She suspected that it was not, but she didn’t see a reason to be concerned that he might be lying about his woodcraft skills. He was not a writer, so she ended up transcribing a supply list at his request. It called for a lot of rope. Tavia did not know what to do with that, but it did seem likely to be useful. He said that his name was Karllson, but he also said it like that was a lie he had thought up on the spot.
Number two was a woman who was maybe 30, 35, with a hard and unfriendly expression. Her name was “not your business, ladyship,” and her specialty was “living and traveling.” She showed off some scary looking dried things with an extremely displeased, put-upon manner.
So far, she was the favorite.
“I’ll call you Nunya,” Tavia said.
“I would prefer it if you did not speak to me,” Nunya said. She closed the door in Tavia’s face.
Tavia did not manage to locate the third person recruited to be useful before a messenger ran to let them know that Faraise was several miles away with his party, heading in their direction.
“I think we ought to go,” Moida said, moving a lot faster than a slightly soft middle aged man seemed apt to. “Time is wasting, and all that.”
“You don’t want him to know where we are going?” Tavia checked.
Moida let out a hysterical little laugh. “I think it is for the best if there is no temptation to cover the same ground twice. For- for practicality’s sake.”
She made an mm sound of comprehension, and rushed to get her pack. It was kind of a lot. Tavia was not blessed with a particularly athletic or strong body type. There wasn’t the bulk she would have expected from a sleeping bag, because apparently that was not happening. Instead, she had many layers, and she was apparently just going to look for soft bits of dirt to curl up on. Tucked in the layers of her clothing were a few pouches and tacked on pockets, which had dried rations, a little knife, and a few other odds and ends. The bag she carried had water in it, as did flasks attached to her belt. The weirdest thing she had was a bunch of yarn and string, which she did not understand the function of but was not opposed to carrying around.
She felt a bit like a girl scout, trailing down the halls with French Fry in her arms. And then she felt like a brownie when she got downstairs to the foyer and saw that other people had bigger packs and were carrying long things, some of which were wrapped in tarp.
French Fry made a valiant attempt at escape, which was thwarted when an unsmiling older man came over with a large cushioned bird cage and carted away a furious, yowling cat in the utmost style.
Tavia shifted, feeling her skirt swish around. Heralda had seen her in the new outfit and with a strained smile mentioned that they were underclothes. She couldn’t help but notice that the traveling clothes seemed to be outerclothes when on men, but whatever. There was no point in trying the poor lady’s strained nerves any further.
A bell rang.
“Time to go, let’s go,” Moida called out, sounding not at all like he was all but running away from his supposed social equal.
And off they went. It was definitely going to end really well.
