(1311-08-02) About A Pendant II
Summary: Gal gets a third opinion on the pendant.
RL Date: Fri Aug 02, 1311
Related: Incident logs in general; ones about the Pendant in specific.
fenris gal 

The Citadel

High on a promontory on the southern peninsula of Marsilikos, the Citadel stands tall and firm against the winds whipping in from the sea. Its only approach is from the north, a set of stairs carved in a coil directly into the granite of the mount, wide enough for only two to pass shoulder to shoulder, rising to meet the single gate room between the inner and outer walls of the citadel, both of travertine, white against the dark grey bedrock that rises high over the port, studded with guardposts, each flying the billowing blue banner of Marsilikos.

Within the twin walls of the citadel the granite has been leveled into a flat rectangular surface, atop which a variety of buildings have been built. The most well-fortified of these is the great octagonal watchtower, crafted in grey granite blocks which match the terrain, rising ten stories higher than the top of the citadel itself, in the top belfry of which is kept a wide array of spyglasses, alarums and masive flags to haul aloft to warn the town below of the arrival of various ships from sea. On the other side of the courtyard are two shorter granite buildings with big bronze doors, under guard all day and all night: the Treasury and Armory, respectively, of Marsilikos. There is also a wooden barracks-building to house the troops which staff the citadel, and the bulk of the citadel floor is open and used for military drills and exercises.


He's already had one opinion on the piece, but, well, getting a second opinion can never hurt, can it? Gal doesn't think so, anyhow, and so, here we are, some time after dinner, with Gal having arranged for a polite invitation to an interview on the citadel delivered to the Lord of the peculiar upbringing. He's in the same meeting room he'd secured earlier, but the black-stained table is sporting a jug of wine and a couple of blue-glazed clay cups. Gal's eyes are drooping a little despite how early in the evening it still is, and a little drop of something will hopefully perk him up.

Well, then a giant arrives. Tall, muscled, and not quite fitting into his simple tunic that's trying with all it's strength to hold onto his biceps. His pants seem to fit a little better but the thighs are tight. His hair is cut very short on the sides and longer on top with small braids in his hair. His beard has been cut quite a bit shorter and one can see his jawline and lips. He moves into the room and grunts quietly at Gal before finding a seat and carefully sitting in it as if he doesn't quite trust it. He up nods the man but doesn't speak.

A giant arriving is less awful when a giant is expected, at least. Gal looks up and takes in the measure of the man, smiling the while. "Hi," he starts, affable and easy-going. "Thanks for coming, you're… Lord Fenris?" he asks, looking a little uncertain as to the right way to call him, but he's trying.

The man looks over Gal slowly before grunting, "Fenris or Lord Valliers. I prefer Fenris." He points out to the man. His accent is heavily skaldic and deep but oddly carries with it some gentleness. "What can I help you with?" He grumbles quietly.

"Fenris, then," Gal is happy enough to oblige. "You can call me Gal, if you want. I'm interviewing people with knowledge of Skald… culture, and everything, about an amulet that's an object of interest to a case. Would you be willing to look at it for me and let me know if you recognize it as of Skaldi origin?"

The man lifts a brow slowly. He nods his head curtly and his jaw tightens as he stays in his position on the table. Both arms on the arms of the chair and his back slightly bent forward. The giant looks at Gal's hands and waits quietly.

Gal should be getting used to this Skald custom of not saying anything by way of an answer, by now. But it's been a long day. He waits, too, until he realizes that that was a 'yes,' and, "Oh!" he exclaims, with, "Thank you," as a necessary supplement. He lifts from his lap a green napkin in which he's enveloped the item; lays it out on the table between them and opens it up. A simple leather strap, a pebble pendant with a mark etched in it in the shape of an arrow. Gal looks to the pendant; to Fenris; to the pendant again.

Fenris stands up and moves closer before taking a seat and looking at it. "No." He shakes his head. "The strap is too simple and a pebble?" He shakes his head. "Our leather straps have coils and braids, each one means something. Pebbles are from the earth and while… this is good it's not Skald. We use teeth, metals, wood… not rocks." He sits back and then looks at Gal. "They…" He corrects quietly and frowns.

Gal doesn't seem surprised by the answer; he's heard a no or two already ove the last few days, but he'd like to be sure. And the actual information about why it's not— that's really helpful, actually, and Gal's night black eyes light up, so to speak. "Oh, really? That's useful to know, thank you," he smiles. The correction, though, makes his lips twist. "… sorry," is all he can say, really. What else is there to say?

Fen takes a deep breath. "No need for you to be sorry. I said it." He sighs quietly and points. "Why is this important?" He grumbles at Gal. "Are people blaming Skald for things they've not done again?"

Gal is about to say no, but, damn— he can't. He tips his upper body slightly to one side and folds up the cloth over the pendant again. "Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see how the investigation goes. But hopefully identifying the origin of this pendant will be helpful. If you know anyone who might have a better idea, or… if you can think of anything… please feel free to get in contact with the guard, OK?"

Fen watches Gal carefully. "You realize the war between the border is about life yes?" He shakes his head and looks down at the cloth. "The Skald sometimes…more often than not, have a bad summer which doesn't lead to food which means their people will starve or freeze during the winter months which are long and dark. The lands of Camlach are defending them from raiders whose only mission is to take it over so they can live. Skald are not traders. They are fighters so they do what they know how to do to get what they need to get."

Gal eases forward onto an elbow, looking at some point on Fenris' left cheek to pay him attention without trying to maintain eye contact. "I've never been on the border," he admits, which… should be pretty clear. "It sucks it has to be like that. And make such bad blood. But she might not even be a Skald, who knows? Maybe if she's not they'll be kinder to her. Not… that it should matter."

Fen lifts his eyes to look at Gals. <If she is Skald she will understand me.> He speaks Skald to the man. "If she is not Skald, she would not understand." He points out simply. His eyes stay focused on Gal for a long few months. "What did this woman do?"

Gal narrows his eyes at Fenris when he talks to him in Skaldi. Nope, he's got nothing. When he goes on in d'Angeline again, he shakes his head. "We know she understands it. We just don't know whether she is one. She, uh. Stabbed a Vicomtess."

Fenris stares some more. "I will tell if she is Skald just by speaking to her. What did the vicomtess do?" He sits there watch at Gal moves…like a predator watching a stag.

"Dunno, I haven't been in on the witness questioning," Gal answers, keeping his head slightly bowed. "I can't do much about it either way, of course, but I'm hoping it'll end up fairly."

Fenris shakes his head. "Unlikely." He points out quietly. "A foreigner attacks a rich local woman with connections and status? I see that being fairly treated. It's going to be a vision of ethnic nepotism." Hey, giant isn't entirely stupid. He pushes himself up and then lifts his eyes. "I will let you know if I remember anything. I have fought most of the world at this point, I may remember where those types of things come from."

Gal isn't blinded to reality, by a long shot, he's just trying not to be as resigned as the prisoner herself seemed to be. Still, he can't argue at all with anything Fenris says, so all he does is nod, once, then a few more times. "We'll see. I appreciate it, I really do. Thanks, Fenris," he sighs, and moves to stand.

Fen looks at Gal as he stands. "She is dead. Her brain hasn't caught up to the fact yet." He grumbles. "No point in finding more information out about her." He shrugs his shoulders and moves from the table. "Give my regards to the injured." He bows his head and moves for the door. His long legs carry him easily to the door.

Gal would offer a shake of his hand, a further nicety, but damn if he has it in him just now. He only nods politely and lets Fenris take his leave.

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