Call for reinforcements #2
Cylus 8 in Mistral Village
Now it was time to begin the work. As a painter, Yrmellyn had spoken to many customers and persuaded them. But, she had never before tried to recruit volunteers to a war operation. Certainly not! She was aware of that. It was good to start on a small scale. Mistral Village would serve as a chance to test and refine her approaches. It would be gold to get that done before it would be time to recruit in Rharne.
For a start, she was going to dig where she stood, or ... where she sat. She was in the dining room of a small and simple tavern. Yrmellyn had already finished her breakfast. But a small group of labourers sat at the table next to hers, eating and speaking. They weren’t loud, but as they were sitting so near her she overheard their conversation all the same.
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” one of them said. “Nothing except taking the family and flee if the keep falls. Wish we could do something, but it’s impossible.”
“Yeah,” another labourer agreed. “If I only had the money I would already be on board a boat, with the wife and the kids. All we can do is sit here and wait to be fried.”
“Ilaren ...” said the third labourer, a woman who looked strong and tall and a bit “mannish”. But, her voice was light. “We can pray.”
A massive silence followed. Yrmellyn, coming from Rharne, could guess what it meant. Ilaren was the main immortal of Rharne. She was the one the people expected to keep them safe and protect them against evil. The cathedral with its priesthood and knights were above reproach. So was of course also the holy Ilaren herself. Expressing doubt in the capability of the resident deity and her forces was unthinkable to most people in Rharne. It was not done.
It would also be like letting go of all hope. They were still hoping, the labourers at the next table...
Yrmellyn had found her test target. She would see how those would react to her attempts at recruitment. Steeling herself for a possible rejection she rose and walked the few steps to their table.
“Mind if I sit down? I arrived here late in the evening after riding from Storm’s Edge. Now, I’m wondering about the situation here in Mistral Village.”
Nobody objected. Work, as usual, was going on in Mistral, they told her, but people were feeling worried. They for one were more curious about the situation at Storm’s Edge. Yrmellyn told them about the need for repairs and replenishment of almost everything. They nodded, looking tired.
“The keep seems halfway lost already,” remarked the man who would have left by boat if he hadn’t lacked the money. The pessimism in his voice felt palpable. “We don’t stand a chance!”
But, Yrmellyn told them about the fight against the frog-like monsters. She spoke of how awed she had been when she had seen knights and brave volunteers in action. When she had seen it she had felt that they could win the war. They would stand a chance if more people joined the defenders. That was why she was travelling. She was a kind of herald, spreading the word and asking people to volunteer. The defenders of the keep could use people for so many things.
“Listen, miss, I understand what you are hinting at but we aren’t soldiers. We can’t do anything against the kind of monsters you spoke about.” It was the woman. Her voice was kind, but her tone was dismissing.
“They need people for other things. For example, labourers to rebuild damaged parts of the walls. People like you! It would take that work off of the knights. It would mean a lot.”
The man who had wished that he could do something looked up from his breakfast while she spoke. He watched her with a certain intensity. Yrmellyn hoped it meant that this man was more susceptible to persuasion. He had already expressed a need of doing something...she would try to give him something to do.
“I’m only a civilian from Rharne but I do what I can though I’m not a soldier. I’m a painter. If I can do something, everybody can. Right? All people can contribute. Isn’t it better to repair the walls of the fortress than to sit and wait for the end?”
“Sure. But, I didn’t’ know that they needed common folks like me. I had no idea that they need labourers to repair the walls and such. Thought it was all about battle. “He paused a bit. “I can’t say anything at once, miss ...”
“Cole.” She realized that she had forgotten to introduce herself. “And you are ...”
“Bertram Ames. Bert. Or Ames. Whichever.” He paused again. “I have to speak to my family. But, it would be good if I can do something. If can make a difference it’s better than waiting like a sitting duck on a pond.”
Yrmellyn kept to what she had told them in the keep. She was going to influence people and persuade them, but she wasn’t looking to pressure and trap anybody. It was best to not make the man say too much while the other two listened. It was also best to not make the two other people paint themselves into a corner. She didn't want to make them say no so many times that pride would prevent them from changing their minds later.
She thanked them for their time and left the tavern. Speaking to all people in Mistral would be impossible, but rumours would do part of the job. Yrmellyn would continue to speak to people she met. She would also look around for the other people from Storm's Edge.
For a start, she was going to dig where she stood, or ... where she sat. She was in the dining room of a small and simple tavern. Yrmellyn had already finished her breakfast. But a small group of labourers sat at the table next to hers, eating and speaking. They weren’t loud, but as they were sitting so near her she overheard their conversation all the same.
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” one of them said. “Nothing except taking the family and flee if the keep falls. Wish we could do something, but it’s impossible.”
“Yeah,” another labourer agreed. “If I only had the money I would already be on board a boat, with the wife and the kids. All we can do is sit here and wait to be fried.”
“Ilaren ...” said the third labourer, a woman who looked strong and tall and a bit “mannish”. But, her voice was light. “We can pray.”
A massive silence followed. Yrmellyn, coming from Rharne, could guess what it meant. Ilaren was the main immortal of Rharne. She was the one the people expected to keep them safe and protect them against evil. The cathedral with its priesthood and knights were above reproach. So was of course also the holy Ilaren herself. Expressing doubt in the capability of the resident deity and her forces was unthinkable to most people in Rharne. It was not done.
It would also be like letting go of all hope. They were still hoping, the labourers at the next table...
Yrmellyn had found her test target. She would see how those would react to her attempts at recruitment. Steeling herself for a possible rejection she rose and walked the few steps to their table.
“Mind if I sit down? I arrived here late in the evening after riding from Storm’s Edge. Now, I’m wondering about the situation here in Mistral Village.”
Nobody objected. Work, as usual, was going on in Mistral, they told her, but people were feeling worried. They for one were more curious about the situation at Storm’s Edge. Yrmellyn told them about the need for repairs and replenishment of almost everything. They nodded, looking tired.
“The keep seems halfway lost already,” remarked the man who would have left by boat if he hadn’t lacked the money. The pessimism in his voice felt palpable. “We don’t stand a chance!”
But, Yrmellyn told them about the fight against the frog-like monsters. She spoke of how awed she had been when she had seen knights and brave volunteers in action. When she had seen it she had felt that they could win the war. They would stand a chance if more people joined the defenders. That was why she was travelling. She was a kind of herald, spreading the word and asking people to volunteer. The defenders of the keep could use people for so many things.
“Listen, miss, I understand what you are hinting at but we aren’t soldiers. We can’t do anything against the kind of monsters you spoke about.” It was the woman. Her voice was kind, but her tone was dismissing.
“They need people for other things. For example, labourers to rebuild damaged parts of the walls. People like you! It would take that work off of the knights. It would mean a lot.”
The man who had wished that he could do something looked up from his breakfast while she spoke. He watched her with a certain intensity. Yrmellyn hoped it meant that this man was more susceptible to persuasion. He had already expressed a need of doing something...she would try to give him something to do.
“I’m only a civilian from Rharne but I do what I can though I’m not a soldier. I’m a painter. If I can do something, everybody can. Right? All people can contribute. Isn’t it better to repair the walls of the fortress than to sit and wait for the end?”
“Sure. But, I didn’t’ know that they needed common folks like me. I had no idea that they need labourers to repair the walls and such. Thought it was all about battle. “He paused a bit. “I can’t say anything at once, miss ...”
“Cole.” She realized that she had forgotten to introduce herself. “And you are ...”
“Bertram Ames. Bert. Or Ames. Whichever.” He paused again. “I have to speak to my family. But, it would be good if I can do something. If can make a difference it’s better than waiting like a sitting duck on a pond.”
Yrmellyn kept to what she had told them in the keep. She was going to influence people and persuade them, but she wasn’t looking to pressure and trap anybody. It was best to not make the man say too much while the other two listened. It was also best to not make the two other people paint themselves into a corner. She didn't want to make them say no so many times that pride would prevent them from changing their minds later.
She thanked them for their time and left the tavern. Speaking to all people in Mistral would be impossible, but rumours would do part of the job. Yrmellyn would continue to speak to people she met. She would also look around for the other people from Storm's Edge.
