Otherworld Squad

The dining room at Osprey Hall certainly maintained the grand feeling felt throughout the rest of the property. Its high ceiling spanned both storeys and was segmented into quarters, with each one painted in a different scene. Scenes of hunting, of battle and of what Alter would best guess as chivalric dedication. He’d need a solid hour and a spare mattress to take all the details in. As for the walls, one was almost entirely given over to long, thin windows. Parts of which had been stained red, green and blue which served to bathe the space in pools of plentiful and multicoloured sunlight. Opposite, the inner wall was almost completely covered in hung shields in a range of styles and a rainbow of paints. Kite and Heater shields mainly, with a scattering of smaller round shields and bucklers filling the gaps. In the centre of the display, a triangle of three impractically thick metal tower shields took pride of place, bigger than any door. The Osprey Knights must have counted a few Unlimited within their number in the past if those were anything other than display pieces. While the colours and designs varied wildly in style and complexity, each featured the same bird of prey they had seen on the unopened door. Of the other two walls, one was covered in flags and standards bearing the Osprey and Masserlind iconography, primarily in silver but with a generous smattering of the now familiar blue of the ruling family. The other led to the kitchen, a large portion had been opened up to show Tabitha bustling about with determined and high-strung culinary purpose.

Tables coated the floor, each laying claim to six high-backed chairs which were in dire need of a little less ornamentation and a little more padding. One by one, the squad filed into the room and found seats spread out over three of the tables. Large bowls of bubbling stew appeared before each man as they sat, sided by fresh brown bread still warm from the oven. Venison was the meat of the day, rich and fragrant, and more than enough to fill his stomach. Combine that with the vegetables, the bread and the thick broth of the stew then he was about ready to enter hibernation.

“You know, I could get used to this.” Whim slouched back in his chair happily, eyes half closed in drowsy satisfaction.

“It certainly beats microwave cuisine, or that stale gutter-sludge you’re so fond of.” Riptide jibed, his voice similarly languid.

“That’s the beauty of the British kebab shop. The worse the ingredients, the better the result.” Whim laughed.

“Only because you’re always blackout drunk.”

“Amen, there’s no finer tradition. Hey, Alter, what’s the plan?” Whim’s attention turned, causing the other conversations taking place across the room to quieten as if some spell had been cast.

Alter took a quick glance around the room, primarily to make sure everyone was paying attention but also to assure himself that Morgan hadn’t appeared behind him again. Tabitha was too busy fighting the used cooking pot monstrosity of her own creation to do any meaningful snooping.

“For now, consolidation. We have our niche, and quite the luxurious foothold it is, but now we need to prove beyond doubt that we can fill it. I’m not sure whether Oliver will give us some time to acclimatise or whether we’ll be put straight to task but I suspect the latter. Over the next few days we’re going to learn as much as we can about this place. The city, the people, the culture, whatever information we can get our hands on. From what Oliver told us back at city hall our first job is going to be helping him clean house. I like this plan, it’ll help us figure out the dynamics of this place and build our local reputation.” Alter paused and reached for his cup of water, draining its contents in three deep swallows.

“Once our foundations here are nice and solid, we start asking questions. Build and utilise authority. We figure out which doors we need to get through in order to get what we need, then we either knock, or kick them open. I admit, home already feels a long way away. But I believe that we have all the tools we need to start plotting a course back.”

“Do you trust this objective system to have our best interests at heart? I’m all for having a direction to follow but we don’t know what’s at the end of that particular road. Who’s to say it won’t just keep spitting out fresh instructions every time we achieve what’s been asked of us?” Walross asked, punctuating his thinking with sharp raps of his fork against the table.

“Then we suck it up and keep searching. Trust or no, it's still our clearest path. That said, finding more information about how this system is working and who might be behind it is one of my top priorities once we have the freedom to investigate.”

“I have the beginnings of a theory, I’d want to do some more research before committing to anything though.” Boozehound offered, his speech slow and uncertain as if fearing mockery.

“Go ahead.” Alter encouraged.

“It concerns the Four Entwined, or more specifically their ‘blessings’. We know that Oliver is a blessed by Nerrothyll, right? That’s what gives him those fancy fire and mind probing abilities. From what the three of you that saw the Unrepentant die at the gates of Crestvigil have told us then the people that dealt with it were blessed by Sirrithae.” The man paused, eyes flicking left and right. “I think we might be in a similar situation.”

“Wait. You think we’re in the same ballpark as them?” Riptide asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling particularly blessed right now.” Walross’ voice strayed towards a growl.

“Hear me out. I spent a good chunk of time talking to Lucille about these gods of theirs. More specifically Kalaton, he who watches beyond. Their religion states that he’s not permitted to interact with this world, the details of as to why are debated but that’s not important. I suspect, and bear in mind this is a huge reach, that we’re his ‘blessed’.”

“I certainly agree with you on the huge reach part but keep going.” Alter found himself creeping forward in his chair.

“According to Lucille, Kalaton has no true representatives in the world because he is so separate. But we are not from this world, and the abilities we’ve demonstrated are nothing like what’ve been seen before. I think Mr Sun-for-an-eye up there has found one hell of a celestial loophole. I’ve no clue how but he managed to pluck us out of our world, drop us where we needed to be dropped, and now he’s shepherding us around for some purpose. There are only a small number of temples and shrines dedicated to Kalaton, but he is still worshipped on a day-to-day basis by many. Because he is always watching, he has become synonymous with duty, with diligence, and with justice. What’s the first thing we do when we arrive? Save innocent lives. What’s our first official job? Put an end to a dangerous power-grab. It’s right up his alley. Also, each of the Four has a colour used to represent them. Kalaton has orange, and take a look as to what colour signifies us.” Boozehound pointed to the dark tangerine bands and symbols across their uniforms before sitting back in his chair, eyes closed. “There, I said it. Call me crazy if you want, whatever.”

There were no immediate accusations of insanity from the listening men. Alter stretched his fingers out against the surface of the table and studied his fingernails, mind digesting what he had just heard.

“There’s a lot of coincidence buried in this theory. But strangely, I don’t hate the idea.” He admitted.

“It’d be nice to think someone is in control.” Pavejack agreed, his head turning to look out the window hopefully.

“How would we go about confirming or rejecting this idea?” Riptide asked.

“I don’t know. Find a local shrine to Kalaton and see if anything resonates within us?” Boozehound shrugged.

The conversation lulled as Tabitha emerged from the kitchen and began whisking away empty bowls and plates. One of the doors leading into the main hallway opened and Morgan stepped through silently, gliding across the carpet with steps so soft the hem of her dress barely shifted.

“You’re pardon, Captain. The lord has requested your presence over at the main building. Are you able to accompany me now?” She asked expectantly.

“Absolutely. Did he mention needing anyone else to be present?” Alter asked as he rose from his seat.

“He did not specify.” Morgan responded cooly but made no effort to prevent him from bringing company.

Alter nodded for Riptide and Boozehound to accompany him and the quartet made their way from the room. The sun had fully disappeared behind the city walls as they exited Osprey Hall, the sky was awash with the myriad colours of sunset and the air was heavy with the perfumes of a century of flowers. Even at this hour, the small legion of gardeners could still be seen plying their trade across rows of neatly trimmed hedges and seas of floral colour. The main building at the centre of the estate was considerably larger in scope, with an additional floor, ample attic space, a pair of towers at opposite corners and a fourth side to form a complete square. The men were shown through one of many side doors, not as non-descript as a servant’s entrance but certainly one not used by important guests. Through the door Morgan transferred them to the stiff company and piercing gaze of a nameless butler before disappearing back the way they’d come. With a polite flourish they were once again ushered through the luxuries of nobility into a small but lavish private dining room where Oliver sat eating. He had shed his cumbersome cloak and jacket, instead settling for a much more comfortable and light silk shirt and trousers. His previously immaculate hair was messy, his eyes bore the tired markings of a man who works far too hard. Even now pieces of paper were interspersed between the plates arrayed before him. It was a solid ten seconds before he realised he had company.

“Oh, you’re here, I’m so sorry umm.” He began, frantically piling the papers up to one side. “Have you eaten?” Oliver asked, one hand stretching towards a silver bell on the table.

“We have, don’t worry about us.” Alter reassured him as he tried not to laugh at how un-lordly he seemed at this moment.

“Right. You’ve already settled into Osprey Hall. Tell me, what do you think of the place?”

“I think it’s going to give me unrealistic dining and sleeping standards for the rest of my life. It’ll serve us incredibly well, thank you.”

“Excellent, I’m glad. Do you mind if I?..” His voice trailed off and his eyes returned hungrily to the meal laid out before him as his stomach rumbled poignantly.

“Not at all.”

Silence but for the noise of devouring held sway for a couple of minutes as Oliver finished his food. With a content and weary sigh he let the silver cutlery clatter onto the plate and again turned his attention to them.

“Will you be able to start tomorrow morning?” He asked.

The men glanced at each other. “We’d need someone to show us around but yes.”

“Good.” Oliver’s tone shifted drastically. “There was an … ‘incident’, shortly after we made it through the gate. A dozen men from the immigrant camp produced improvised weapons and attempted to force their way through at the exact moment a representative from the capital was trying to leave. There was bloodshed, the departing Crown Inspector saw it all. Another success in my dear Uncle’s battleplan.” His hands tightened into fists.

“How bad?”

“Two immigrants dead, with a further five plus two guards wounded. I cannot afford to wait any longer, Captain. I’m pressing you into service at first light. Be ready.”

Alter nodded. “We’ll be ready.”