The highlander bear, Jonas, has been in the company of the strange armored warrior for quite some time now. He has been picking up the language by way of the houses they have stopped at, more so than his time with the warrior – for the latter prefers to use his words sparingly, perhaps due to, in part, his distorted voice that is not very pleasant to the ears.

The land is Chronotopia, and its capitol, somewhere to the north, is Blitzheim – Home of Lightning. Given the frequency of storms here, it would seem the land itself could deserve that name. While the weather is dreary, at least the locals do show quite a great deal of interest in hospitality – and show it to the travellers.

Ahead, tall spires rise over the next hill, hinting at a city. From here, many of those spires can be seen to hold clock faces. This land does seem to have an inordinate number of clock towers. In any settlement, one rarely wants for knowing what time it is…

Jonas walks a measured pace, used to traveling on foot. He looks at much of the land as he goes, appreciating the greenery and moisture; a far cry from the strange landscape of Bosch where he first found himself. A strange landscape that still occasionally haunts his dreams.

The land is even more comforting for its resemblance to the bear's highland home. If not for his traveling companion (and the strange predilection of the inhabitants for clocks), he would think he was patrolling the northern hills of the land of his birth.

The warrior accompanying Jonas is an ever-present reminder of the Boschian landscape. His mount, which Jonas has come to know as a creature called a "drokar", is somewhat horse-like, with vaguely reptilian features as well. On occasion, other beasts like this have been seen along the way … but the warrior's beast is different … deformed. The barding covers much, but the eyes reflect light strangely, seeming to glow at times, and where the armor does not cover, there are knobby growths, irregular such that they do not appear to be natural. Likewise, the armored warrior is strangely built. The rack of antlers on his head may not be part of the helmet, but perhaps his own … but the build of the helmet is such that it does not appear that there would be any way to remove it, if that were the case, and the helmet does not have enough room to accommodate a muzzle of one of the deer-like Cervani that populate much of this land.

Jonas stops at the top of the hill, looking down at the spires of the city. He gestures towards them, speaking to his fellow traveller, "That'd be Blitzheim?"

The warrior just nods in response. There is a loud cracking noise in the distance, and a plume of smoke rises from one of the buildings. The rapid clanging of alarm bells can be heard. The warrior shows no reaction as he continues riding forward at his slow but continuous pace.

The road passes a number of houses along the way. As the horse rides past, many windows close. This is not unusual. While the group may be welcomed when they ask for shelter, that doesn't mean that anyone goes out of their way to come and greet them – or, at least, to greet the GROUP. Whenever Jonas is alone for a bit, he finds no such reactions to his presence alone.

Jonas pauses at the strange alarm, but since his companion shows no concern, he continues on. He takes the opportunity to study the mysterious knight of the even more mysterious Lord Nosh'ma of Bosch once again. After a few minutes of walking, he speaks again, "It has been my general impression that city-folk are sometimes a bit more … uptight … than yer average country farmer. Would Blitzheim's people be adverse to yer presence? In particular, would the militia?"

The warrior answers, "They would kill me if I entered the city. But that is not my mission. However, they will not react so to you. You will find all that you need in the city."

Jonas nods. Bosch is not a popular neighbor for these people.

The warrior rides on a while, then says, "Tell me. What is your homeland like?"

Jonas is a bit surprised by the sudden curiosity of his companion, but answers, "Much like this in shape. More hills in some places, and a little wilder, but the weather is much the same."

The warrior asks, "Is there any magic there? Or any science?"

Jonas says, "Magic? Oh, aye, enough. The hills have their share of hermits and witches, and every clan has a collection of priests. There's not very many sorcerors; they prefer the more 'civilized' lands of the Empire."

Jonas says, "As fer 'science,' I'm not sure what ye mean by that. We kin forge iron, if that's what ye had in mind."

Jonas lifts the strange sword that the knight gave him from his shoulder and examined the odd material. "Which, I gather, is something that appears to be a bit rare in these parts."

This prompts a nod from the armored warrior. "By science, I meant machines. Like the clocks you see here. Bosch is a place of magic. Chronotopia pretends to be a place of science … although it fights a losing battle with magic. And, yes, iron is rare here. I know enough of other lands to realize that it is not so everywhere. If your land is like many others, suffice it to say that iron here is worth as much as gold is in your world, I would guess. And gold is even more precious still."

Over the hill, the city can be seen more clearly now. It builds up from outlying buildings as mountains would lie beyond foothills, though more exaggerated in the difference, as the heart of the city is filled with tall spires and towers, many topped with poles from which flutter great banners bearing symbols of this city and state, all of them bearing some variation on the theme of a cogwheel. Even a cathedral bears at the top of its steeple a five-toothed cogwheel that resembles a stylized star.

Jonas grins at this. "Small chance o' me findin' a proper claymore, then. Ah well, this is a good blade. It'll suffice. As fer machines, well, the Highlands have their share o' waterwheels and windmills to grind grain and pump water. We kin plow the land, and we have our share of wagons. But we're a simple folk, and don't ask too much of the Mother. The Empire is where ye'd find all the sages, with their books and such. Out in the Highlands, ye might find a stargazer with a spyglass, but he'd be the only one for days. Which is, as I recall my sages, as they like it.

The warrior nods. "If you visit the skylands, though, you will need a better weapon. Your sword has no magical powers, but it is from Bosch. It will deteriorate if it is taken up where the magic becomes thin. Magic is strongest near the surface, but weaker in Rephidim and the skyships."

Jonas points at the large building with the steeple. "What is that one for? It looks important."

The warrior answers, "That is a temple of the Celestial Order. They follow the Star and believe in the Great Machine, and that everything has its part. The seeming anarchy of Bosch is anathema to them."

Jonas says, "Then the Mother is not worshipped here? Curious. Even more curious that they would follow a Star, and worship in a building closed to the sky."

The warrior answers, "That is the way of many of the religions of these lands, to worship in enclosed temples. There are exceptions, but you will not find them for quite a journey by land."

Jonas nods. "One furre's hatchet is another furre's axe, as me Da used to say. What sort of king rules these orderly Chronotopians?"

The warrior says, "None presently. Their ruler, the Kaizer, recently died. That is why so many of those we have encountered have been in such a state of gloom."

Jonas looks as he walks. The buildings aren't that much different from those he has seen in the Empire, just a little dirtier.

Jonas says, "Eh? A sad state that. Is there an heir?"

The warrior answers, "That is none of my concern." He looks around, and stops his mount. "This is the place." There seems to be nothing particularly special about this place … just a spot along one of the roads – which have gone from gravel to cobblestone – with a few dwellings here and there, and an inn by the way. It's just on the fringes of the city proper.

Jonas looks around. "As far as ye kin go then?"

"As far as I have need to go," the warrior answers. "And, for the time being, it is as far as you need to. You are to remain here until something happens. This is where you are needed. When it happens, you will know. That is all I can tell you … other than that you should make no casual mention of me or my master. You will gain no honor by any association with Bosch here."

"… except, perhaps, if you had any proof that you had slain a lesser Boschian lord," the warrior amends, handing a warped, melted-looking amulet to the bear.

Jonas raises an eyebrow at the pronouncement. "As ye wish." He takes the odd amulet and turns it over in his hand, before dropping it into his sporran with his small amount of money. "Ye do have my thanks for helping me, both here and in Bosch."

Jonas says, "If ye need of me, I will do my best to help ye in any way that I can. Ye have my word on that as a warrior of the Black Watch."

The armored warrior nods. "Lord Nosh'ma will take interest in how well you fare outside of Bosch. And at some time, he may have need of your assistance. For the meantime, do as you will. Attach no sentimental value to the amulet. Use it as you see fit." The amulet is small, once resembling some sort of sigil – its meaning lost on the bear – and made either of lead or pewter.

The armored warrior gives no other farewell as he turns around and starts riding back the way he came.

Jonas nods. "Travel well, warrior. St. Procyon guide yer path.

A couple of wagons roll by, each drawn by small teams of Dromodons – semi-reptilian beasts of burden common to this land, more so than the more horse-like Drokars.

Jonas watches the rider depart, and then finds a convenient place to sit and empty his boots of road gravel.

A few deer-like Cervani walk by, taking little notice of the bear. They seem to be a rather dominant race in these parts, as well as the occasional crow-like Korv that waddles by or flies overhead.

Jonas examines his boots for holes, and not finding any, sets them nearby. He sighs and lets his feet rest.

A panther-like feline walks up to the bear. A Khatta, Jonas has heard these people are called. "Greetings. You don't look like you're from these parts. Are you lost?"

Even as he rests, Jonas looks around him, absorbing the scenery and comparing it with his home.

Jonas looks up at the dark child of St. Felis. "Lost? No, but thankee fer yer concern. It is difficult, as St. Procyon says, to be lost when ye don't know where yer going." He grins ironically.

The Khatta puzzles at this, then just lifts his nose. "Very well then. Good day." With that, he strides on, going about whatever his business was.

In the distance a carriage flies along the road, weaving around the slower moving vehicles. As it draws near more details can be seen. The cab is tall, and the wood stained dark. Ornate lanterns burn on at the corners, and the door bears a coat of arms. Unrecognizable to Jonas, but one that incorporates a complex arrangement of cogwheel shapes.

Jonas watches the Khatta go. Idly, he sniffs at himself. A bath might be advisable, he thinks. The road does make for a distinct fragrance.

The driver of the dark carriage whips his Drokars, urging them on faster as the vehicle passes Jonas.

"Driver! Stop," a voice kaws from inside the carriage as a beak pokes out.

Jonas watches the carriage tear past him. Someone's in a hurry, he thinks. As the carriage begins to slow, he amends that thought.

The driver brakes hard, slowing the carriage to a stop a little ways past the bear.

The door opens and inside, the beaked being seems to be admonishing a smaller being – a Cervani? – to stay quiet and to let him deal with this. Then a fantastical being steps out, a black-feathered winged being like the Korvs that Jonas has seen before, but dressed in what looks like a half-attempt at armor, chitin breastplate across his chest. "You are called to destiny," the Korv warrior declares to Jonas. "But there is no time to explain. We must go now!" He holds out his winghand to the bear.

Jonas watches the carriage come to speedy halt just beyond him, an expression of mild interest on his face. Without taking his eyes off the vehicle, he grabs his boots, and pulls them on.

Jonas looks at the avian, and snorts. "Destiny is it, then? And who be you to dictate the destiny of me?" He grins broadly.

Gergesene kaws, "I? I am Sir Gergesene St. Germain, a Landsknecht of Chronotopia."

Gergesene draws himself up fully. "And I have seen you in a vision. One that says that I would find you here at this very corner, though there is nothing to mark it as unusual, and that you would play an essential role in the story to come. I say again, will you answer destiny's call? Or will you pass it by and become naught but a spectator?"

Jonas digests this. "A Land kuh-neckt? Be that affiliated with the Hospital or the Temple?"

A child peers out at the bear from inside the carriage. He appears to be one of the Cervani, approximately twelve years old.

Gergesene kaws, "We are affiliated with none but the service of the Star, and the Grand Machine of which we are all a part, stranger. We are warriors fighting for the cause of Chronotopia!"

Gergesene looks a bit put off that this stranger is so uneducated, but perhaps he is merely from the deep country. Such size, though! The carriage will surely tilt when he is aboard.

"Is he a knight?" The child asks, looking at Jonas with wide eyes.

Jonas stands, drawing himself up to his full height. He looks down at the Korv knight, amused by his proclamations. "Well now. That'd be a good thing. If ye were Templars, I'd have nothing to do with ye. Now a vision, ye say. And what did this vision pertain to? P'raps that young child o' St. Herne behind ye, eh?

The young Cervani blinks. "Who?"

Jonas grins. "You, lad."

Gergesene glances over to Jael, motioning him not to poke himself out overly. "He is surely a warrior, little one, but as to a knight, I do not know what code he follows."

Jael nods and moves back inside of the carriage.

Gergesene kaws, "You should know this, stranger – what hight thou? Chronotopia itself lies heirless and the succession grows chancy. The lad within – I feel sure that I can confide this in you, for the vision tells me that you are a being of honor and integrity – many who would succeed to the Kaizer are themselves seeking him."

Gergesene kaws, "If you would join us then, make haste! We have no more moments to waste."

Jonas ponders this briefly. "Well, the lad does seem to be in a tight situation, if yer nervousness is any gauge. I'll take ye as furres of honor and decency fer now, and trust in yer 'vision.' And I stand just on the other side of seven feet, not that my height matters.

Gergesene beak-smiles, the corners of his beaks turning up. "I knew that I could count on you, stranger knight. My visions have never yet spoken wrong, though they are at times greatly cryptic." He hurries into the carriage.

A soft 'Ooooooooooh!' comes from inside the carriage as Jael hears how tall Jonas is.

Jonas stoops and retrieves the blade he had left on the street, and he walks to the carriage.

The carriage tilts as the large bear climbs aboard. Inside is another passenger, an unconscious panther with bloody bandages wound tightly about his arms. The head of a crossbow bolt protrudes from the one side of the cab. The driver whips the Drokars as he hears the door close, and they race off.

Gergesene kaws, "An assassin. He would have taken the boy, had it not been for myself – and my brave companions."

The young Cervani's wide eyes stay glued to Jonas.

Gergesene looks grim. "Alas, they were wounded and kidnapped by the assassin's brethren. I hope that we can extract knowledge of their location from this one."

Jonas grunts as he climbs in. "Hmm. He's alive, then?" He shifts about, trying to find a comfortable seat.

Gergesene sits next to the Kattha so that Jonas can take up most of the other side, next to the boy. "I stayed my killing strike," he says simply.

The carriage races down the street, the cab swaying from side to side on the springs as the driver weaves around obstacles.

Jonas settles himself and looks across at the boy. "Well met, lad. I be Jonas, son of Henry, born to Clan MacAlister, of the Black Watch." He offers a hand in greeting.

The child reaches out and grasps Jonas's index finger. "I'm Jael," he says. "Son of Mage Talia and… er… " He looks back at Gergesene.

Jonas grins. "The Kaiser, perhaps?"

"If Mage Talia said rightly," Gergesene says quietly. "Yes. He is also the son of the Kaizer. It was a secret affair… And one that many people, unaccountably, seem to know of, as they seek Jael so hotly."

The carriage slows, turning and passing through an armoured arch. Drawguides for a portcullis, and a strange mechanical device to raise it, are briefly visible. Then a rap on the roof is heard, "We're there sir, Einheimische Keep #1," the driver announces from outside.

Jael just shrugs his shoulders. He reaches up and rubs his nose, shiffling a little.

Gergesene looks up to the roof. "Excellent, driver! Do you know where the other guards were to go?"

Gergesene peers out of the door.

The carriage sways as the driver comes down and opens the door. "Back to the Palace barracks, on the other side of Blitzheim sir."

Jonas grunts. "Well, Jonas, me lad," he mutters to himself, "This is a fine piece of work." He turns to the Korv. "And tell me, why should they not? What're yer plans for the boy?"

Gergesene kaws, "I? Plans? I have none yet. That was, in fact, what I hoped to discuss with my fellow knights, friend Jonas. His existence puts the succession entirely into chaos!"

Gergesene pats Jael's back. "But you are a good lad. We'll pull you through this all right." He steps out of the carriage and encourages the others to step down.

"Sir?" The driver looks questioningly at Gergesene.

Jonas nods. A fine piece of work indeed. "Well, then, Sir Knight, pr'aps ye should lead on."

A Cervani looks to the carriage, brow furrowing. He shakes his head and strides toward it. "Hail, Sir Gergesene!" Fadyr says as he approaches.

Gergesene considers. "Those of the Palace have conducted themselves with some credit," he says to the driver. "Please tell the Leftennant that he is welcome here and that I would have words with him most expediently, if it is possible."

Jonas patiently waits for the Korv to exit the carriage. Unless, he thinks, we're here to pick someone up?

The practice yard, and killing field, is empty except for the occasional passing Landsknecht. Everyone is inside for the evening meal, except for the watch patrols, of course.

Jonas sticks his head out of the carriage and then steps out, towering behind Gergesene.

Gergesene offers Jael a wing-hand down. "Ah! Sir Rainscroft. I'm grateful to have you here."

The driver nods to Gergesene, "I will tell him sir, don't you worry. I'll have to take it slow home though, the Drokars are tired." He then bows to the knight, "Will you need my help with the Khattha?"

Jael hops out and keeps close to Gergesene.

Fadyr starts to reply, then pauses a moment to look up at Jonas. "Um… aye. I was told you were bound for the palace, but doubted I could catch up with you there. I hardly expected you to come here so soon. I fear I had no lu-" He stops, finally noting Jael. "Well… I take it your luck was better than mine in this search?"

Jonas looks over at the new knight. A bit young, he thinks, but we all are once. "I don't think he'll be a problem," he comments to the driver, leaning in and pulling out the bound assassin.

Gergesene nods to the driver. "Thank you, and fare well! Give my regards to Leftennant Varick."

Gergesene nods to Fadyr. "Yes. This is Jael… And this is Jonas. However, I fear that we have not found the young squire without some difficulties… Which is to say."

The driver nods, he has seen many strange things, but none to really compare with Jonas. Similar in face to a Titanian, but larger, and obviously not one in manner and mind. He bows again, to the bear, them climbs to his seat on the front of the cab. "I will do that sir, I'm glad to have helped."

Jonas slings the unconscious feline over one shoulder, resting his large blade on the other. "Whenever ye goodsirs are ready," he grunts.

The driver turns the carriage around, and heads for the gates. He waves as he passes into their shadows, and then is gone.

Fadyr glances at the bound Kattha. "Nothing too difficult, I hope? And what of Brother Salvatori?"

Gergesene kaws, "I'm sorry to say that Brother Salvatori and the guard Shem were both captured by the assassins."

Gergesene frowns. "Let's find someplace more private to talk. Perhaps this one will come around and be able to tell us more.

Fadyr nods, looking a little worried at the news. "Aye."

The young Cervani keeps quiet, looking around nervously. His hands are tightly clenched behind his back.

Jonas grunts in reply, his attention divided between Jael and the assassin.

Fadyr taps the pommel of one sword thoughtfully. "Where then, Sir Gergesene?"

Gergesene thinks, then starts moving forward. "The infirmary. Unless someone has been unlucky, we should find it vacant… And if our friend." He nods to the Kattha. "Decides to be informative, we can treat his wounds honorably there."

Jonas turns to Jael, "After you, lad."

Fadyr nods. "Aye." He gestures for Gergesene to lead, eyes scanning the area for anyone watching too closely before following along himself.

The infirmary is easily accessible from the main passage of the keep, to aid in dragging the wounded to safety. The high stone hallways are as empty of knights as the yard was. It would seem that the funeral today has left the Landsknechts with a sense of mortality; No one wounded in over-enthusiastic practice is being treated tonight.

Jonas finds an empty spot and lowers his blade to prop it against the wall. Then he puts the Kattha in one of the beds.

Gergesene pats Jael's back again. "You'll make a fine squire," he says with a smile. "Are you hungry? There's perhaps time yet to find something in the kitchen."

The assassin is still unconscious from his heavy bleeding, though that seems to have stopped at last.

Walking over to stand by Jonas, Fadyr looks up. "Greetings, sir. I am Fadyr Rainscroft of the Landsknechts, I believe I have yet to know your name."

The Cervani shakes his head rapidly. "No." although which question he's answering is left to ponder.

Jonas gives the assassin a quick once-over, drawing on his knowledge of field medicine, sparse as it is, to assess his condition. "Jonas MacAlister, of the Black Watch, Sir Knight. Grace upon you."

The assassin is seriously hurt, though not in a life threatening way. The wounds on his arms will make it awkward for him for quite some time. Likely some smelling salts or stimulant would bring him around, or perhaps time.

Gergesene hrms. Well perhaps afterward is good enough time to eat. But when he was a young crow, he reminisces to himself. He was always hungry. ;>

Gergesene kaws, "Well, then. Let me bring you up to date, Sir Rainscroft."

Fadyr smiles faintly, turning to Gergesene and listening. It's about time he found out what has happened.

Gergesene describes briefly how he and Brother Salvatori went to the School of Practical Mechanisms, and they found Jael being escorted out of the campus by three guards led by Leftennant Varick, on mysterious 'orders' from the Palace though one, a Shem, objected to orders that conflicted with the Landsknecht – "He recognized surely, that we are the best servants of Chronotopia's interests, being directly beholden to no one lord."

Gergesene kaws, "At any rate, thereafter, we came to the agreement that I and Salvatori would accompany the young Jael, to protect him, and we would inquire into the nature of these orders. But shortly before we made any true progress, there was a roadblock – an exploded boiler on some pumper wagon. The driver was forced off by six of the assassins with crossbows, and they ordered us to send the boy out. Naturally, we did not comply."

Jonas listens to the Gergesene's tale, and pulls a chair over and puts it behind Jael. The boy has had an eventful afternoon evidently, and is undoubtedly a bit frazzled.

Gergesene describes briefly how Shem and he confronted the assassins, and Salvatori attempted to get the boy to safety – but the monk was downed by a crossbow bolt. Still, the fight caused enough ruckus that the assassins decided to flee. "All but this one, whom I captured as you see. And this is the most disturbing thing… "

Gergesene pulls back the assassin's hood to reveal his insignia.

Jonas looks for another chair for himself, but none of the infirmary's furniture seems built for one of his stature. He grunts, and leans against the wall.

The Cervani knight shifts slightly as he listens to the account of the ambush, finding himself wishing her were there to help.

"Thank you." the child says to Jonas and seats himself. He stares intently at one of the walls, not wanting to look at his attacker.

The insignia… is that of the Baron Phelan's private guards.

Jonas looks at the insignia blankly. "Very pretty. I assume it means something to ye?"

Fadyr leans over to look more closely. He frowns and stands straight again. "Aye, it would seem to," he says quietly, not sure how much to trust the bear at this point.

Gergesene kaws, "At any rate, we were successful in recovering at least this one… But the assassins made off with Salvatori and Shem! But I decided at once that the best place to go was where we are strongest – this keep, of course. And along the way, I saw this stranger knight, whom I knew instantly was one who would be of great help to us in this time of trouble."

Gergesene confides to Fadyr, "I had seen him in a vision, you see. A being of great strength and honor and integrity – and one who has been chosen as a companion for Jael, to safeguard the boy."

Jael droops on his chair, the day is starting to take its toll upon him as he starts to doze off.

Fadyr looks to Jonas, then back to his fellow knight. He has his doubts about these visions, it sounds far too… magically for comfort. Still, Gergesene believes in them. "Aye, it would be beneficial to have another helping directly in all this."

Jonas pushes off of the wall. He shrugs at Gergesene's assessment of his character, not being one to blow his horn. Cautiously, he lifts the boy from the chair, and deposits him on one of the beds. He drapes a blanket over Jael, and turns back to the two knights.

Jonas says, "The lad is clearly wanted by someone, that much is clear. What is not clear is what ye plan to do with him. If ye want him to make a bid for the throne of this land, then ye've asked the wrong Child of St. Bruin to help ye. I'll exploit no innocent."

Gergesene ponders. "The Leftennant Varick, the one who was initially to bring Jael to the Palace – I do not know if he means well or ill." He looks up to Jonas with surprise.

Jonas says, "So, I'd know what yer plans are for the boy, before we go further."

Gergesene kaws, "What? No, far from it. I support Lord Ruthven, as Sir Rainscroft knows; he has once been to the accursed land of Bosch, and knows well that we should lead a crusade to cleanse that land of evil. But… Aspersions have been cast upon his character. I have vowed to cast light upon these claims that he is somehow… touched, so that all will see he is blameless and indeed, the best one to lead us out of these troubles. Jael is a good lad, but he does not have the… "

Gergesene waves a winghand. "The experience. The skill. He has only studied mechanics."

Gergesene looks over at Fadyr to voice his own opinion.

Fadyr frowns at Jonas, feeling that was too close to an accusation. He states, "We have been charged to protect him, regardless of where he may stand in these chaotic times. His claim to the throne is questionable, at best, yet we shall guard against those who would use that, or see him dead for it."

Gergesene nods to the other knight. "Well spoken, my brother in arms."

Fadyr says, "And if you would protect him as well, Jonas, then I call you ally in this."

Jonas looks over the two knights. "Hmph. Well spoken that. Very well then, I will believe you fer now. So, now what? These two taken by assassins, Shem and yer brother, Gergesene, what of them? And thiss fellow," he motions to the assassin. "What of this mark on him? Is he someone's bondsfurre, then?"

Gergesene looks surprised again. "Salvatori is not *my* brother," he says. "Rather, he is of the Church of the Star, and of a rank to be titled as Brother. He is, I believe, one skilled in the healing arts."

The panther on the cot starts to stir, and tries to raise a hand to his more wounded arm. The sudden jolt of pain from his shoulders, causes an anguished mew to escape the Khattha. His bound wrists likely did not help during the attempted movement.

Jonas looks over at the bound feline. "Well now, that's something. I think our friend is awake."

Fadyr steps around to one side of the cot, watching the Kattha and murmuring, "Now to see if he has answers."

Gergesene clacks his beak. "Well now, that's something. Welcome to Einheimische Keep," he says to the panther.

The guard is not moving much, Gergesene's expertly applied restraints, and wounds, making sure of that. The panther's eyes open with a staring lack of focus.

Jonas looks across the room at the bleary eyes of the assassin. "Did ye strike him on the head then, Gergesene? He looks rattled."

"Einheimische Keep?" The Khattha moans, "The Landsknechts… what do the Landsknechts have to do with this?"

Fadyr appears just as ready to defer to Gergesene as anything, not having dealt with something like this before.

Gergesene shakes his head to Jonas. "Blood-loss, no doubt."

Gergesene tsks. "Well then! You, sir. What is your name?"

Jonas quirks an eyebrow at the assassin's confusion, but stays back, near the slumbering Jael.

The Khattha tries to raise his arms again, his muzzle crunching in pain. He gasps, waiting for it to subside. "I hight Feskh… my name is Feskh."

The Cervani knight crosses his arms and listens.

"Very good," Gergesene says. "We are Landsknechts of honor, though you gave us scant little of it. If you are honorable with us, then I shall make sure that your wounds are seen to. Who is your liege lord, Feskh?"

Feskh tries to move once more, his teeth clenching in pain again. In his delirium he finally realizes to just lay still, if anything turning only his head. He answers Gergesene, trying to focus on the Korv, "I serve Baron Phelan… a soldier in his personal guard."

Gergesene nods. "Very good, Feskh. Now, attend: your friends took companions of mine away. I cannot but think that they might be rather unkindly treated, unless we see to them quickly. Tell me, where would your friends have taken Jael?"

Jonas looks around the infirmary for some clearly labeled medicines, in particular, pain killers. An unlikely sort of thing, if healers here run their infirmaries like the ones at home, with nothing labeled, and the uses known only to the healers.

"No… the Baron wouldn't… " the panther shakes his head, one pupil finally focusing on Gergesene. Recognition flashes across the Khattha's face, "You! No! It's YOU! Uhhn!" The guard moans as he struggles once more with his bonds and pain.

Gergesene looks stern. "I, sir, am a Korv of honor. I shall not mistreat my companions – nor my prisoners. Please cease struggling or I shall have to think that you intend to abuse the hospitality of the Landsknechts."

Jonas says, "Calm yerself, else ye make yer wounds worse."

"You serve Ruthven!" Feskh almost spits the name, glaring as much as he can with his one focusing eye. "You're the one. Thats why you swore the oath to him today."

Gergesene looks surprised at Feskh's vehemence. "I believe that he is best qualified to be our next Kaizer. This is a time of troubles," he says. "And he has witnessed first-hand the horrors that Bosch has brought us. But I serve Chronotopia, first and foremost." He looks angry, but does not yet raise a hand to the prisoner.

Fadyr wonders aloud, "Why are you so fearful of Ruthven?"

"The Baron warned us that Ruthven would act, I did not think it would be so swiftly." The panther lolls his head, looking at Fadyr, "He wishes to alter the order of things."

Gergesene looks shocked. He knew that there would be aspersions to clear away… But so quickly!

Fadyr raises one eyebrow. "Alter things? Why did the Baron send you to ambush the others?"

"We!" The panther winces, as he almost rises to answer Fadyr, "We were sent to protect the Kaiser's son… protect him from Ruthven. We saw the palace guards capture him, we had to improvise."

Jonas groans quietly to himself. "A mighty mess this is going to be," he mutters.

Gergesene grows increasingly amazed. "So do you pretend then, that Ruthven is the mysterious person who ordered that Jael should be captured? And what would Ruthven do if he had Jael then, did your master tell you that too?"

Fadyr glances at Gergesene quickly with a frown.

The Khattha gasps, sighing heavily at another wave of pain through his arms. "Baron… Baron Phelan said forces would be after Jael, that we had to protect him from that. He didn't… say anything about Ruthven, but I know that is who he means."

"Who else would send Palace Guards on personal errands, when there is no kaizer?" The panther gasps again.

Gergesene looks relieved. "Perhaps Ruthven is not the monster that Baron Phelan makes him out to be," he says more to himself than to the panther. "As to that, we shall learn the truth, I am certain. The shining light of the Star will set the righteous free of all binds."

Keeping his eyes on the Korv, Fadyr says, "Ruthven is beside the point at the moment. Jael is safe, the others are likely with Baron Phelan, and our 'guest' needs a healer… "

Jonas says, "And a different way of keeping him where he is. Those bonds are not good fer his wounds, that's fer sure."

Feskh's one good eye unfocuses again, and he stares blankly up at the ceiling, his ears flick at Gergesene's words, "I… I wonder why you… serve him… the Landsknechts… the Landsknechts… serve Chronotopia."

Gergesene nods to Fadyr. "Of course, Sir Rainscroft. You have been of great help, Feskh. If you will give us your parole, after we treat your wounds and see to your care, I shall personally return you to your lord. Then he shall see that we are no tools of Bosch."

"I… yes… I… the pain." The panther's eyes close.

Jonas says, "Get him a healer, Gergesene, and worry about the parole later. "

Fadyr hesitantly agrees, "Aye, Sir Gergesene, perhaps you would go seek a healer now?" He doesn't like the idea of listening to the two argue over Lord Ruthven.

Gergesene kkts. "Healer!" he calls, or kaws. He hops out of the infirmary, looking for one.

Fadyr nods and turns back to the Kattha, "Just rest." He sighs, shaking his head, "May we find our way out of all this with no more useless bloodshed."

Jonas turns to Fadyr. "Where can we put the boy?" he asks. "Common barracks aren't the most defensible of places, and I gather that not all of the knights share Gergesene's opinions. We need a place where I can watch over him."

Gergesene . o O ( Oh, if only they had not taken Brother Salvatori… He is supposed to be an excellent healer. )

A healer is found, his room is not far from where his services are needed, and the Korv's voice brings him into the hallway. "What?" He asks, pulling on a shirt as he leaves his quarters.

Jonas assesses that the Kattha is in no condition to escape at this moment, and moves to untie his bonds.

The Khattha guard is indeed, unconscious again.

Gergesene draws the healer back to the infirmary. "We captured a guard of Phelan's," he explains. "But his wounds are dire – it will be impossible to remand him to his lord's care if he expires. Can you help?"

Fadyr replies to Jonas, "As defensible as any. I shall arrange a room as close to ours as possible, the accommodations may be spartan, but it should suffice. I know not what else to offer if you are still worried, this keep is as near a safe place as we are likely to find."

"Captured?" The healer asks as he enters the infirmary, "Yes, of course, just let me… " His voice trails off as he sees Jonas bending over the prone form, "… don't worry about it, let me examine him." He moves to the bedside.

Fadyr quickly steps clear for the healer.

Jonas says, "Aye. Truth be told, if they want the boy bad enough, not even a keep full of yer kingdom's finest'd stop them. But he won't be cheaply got, I kin tell ye that fer nothing."

Jonas steps back, nodding to the healer.

Gergesene nods to the healer. "He threatened Palace guards and a Landsknecht with violence."

Gergesene looks surprised at Jonas. "Who?"

Jonas shrugs. "Whoever would want him, Gergesene. The Black Watch defends those caught between armies, be they political or military. It is our duty and our honor. Now, let's get the lad somewhere else, and let the healer work."

"These wounds are deep," The healer says, unbinding them. "They're dirty as well… Yes, yes, you should leave. Less chance of fur or feathers getting into his wounds." Turning to the cabinets he starts to remove herbs, bandages and other necessary things.

Gergesene beak-grins to Jonas. "I have not heard of the Black Watch before, but they sound a most charitable association. And aye, the lad shall surely be most comfortable in a proper bed. We must find you one as well, Sir Jonas."

Gergesene kaws, "Do you lift up yon boy then, and we shall be off!"

Fadyr nods and steps out of the infirmary to lead the way to a room Jonas and Jael can use, or two by each other. He is still suspicious of the bear, but then he is suspicious of much these days.

Jonas grunts. "Just Jonas." He lifts the slumbering child from the other bed and moves out of the infirmary.

Scrubbing his hands, the healer looks up, "This will take some time, and I don't know when he'll awaken. I'll send for you St. Germain, Sir Rainscroft, when he does."

Gergesene kkts. A strange mess. "Thank you, Healer," he says as he files out.

Before he leaves, Jonas adds over his shoulder, "Would ye grab that blade, Gergesene? It's served me well enough, and I'd like to hang onto it a bit longer."

He motions to the great two-handed chitin sword leaning against the wall.

Gergesene's eyes widen. "A considerable blade," he says. He hefts it up with some difficulty, then lumbers it after Jonas.

The healer sets into his work, and it takes quite some time…