Joined: 30 Sep 2007
|Posted: Sun Aug 07, 2016 9:48 am Post subject: A Healthy Estate of Mind...
|Monty looked out of the window of his study at the tents and shelters going up on the grounds of his estate, somewhere in the crowd someone shouted "theif!" and a figure tried to run through the mass of bodies and guy ropes. A short distance away the crowd parted as one of the Butchers who had been seconded to the camp strode through, Monty heard the sharp report of the theif being subdued and turned away.
'You know they'll rob you blind if you let 'em,' said Marlowe from the armchair in the corner.
'That's why I got the Butchers involved,' Monty replied, waving a hand vaguely towards the window as he turned.
'Yeah, but two? Against how many?'
'It's enough. Anyone who's lived in Archipelago long enough knows what will happen. Anyone who's relatively new and thinks this will be like Little Salem will learn the hard way.'
'Fuck me, that's cold for you.'
Monty shrugged, 'the year in Asylum, stab happy idiots like those new Thundernese, now this. Sometimes emotion just gets in the way, sometimes you have to build a wall around your feelings. To keep yourself safe.'
'Fair enough,' Marlowe replied.
Monty started when someone knocked on his door.
'Um, come in...' he wasn't quite used to having this estate; the shift in timelines had given him the lands he'd never inherited. He wondered what had happened to his brother -- either version -- the one who had until recently been the owner of Ravenscroft Manor, or the one from the other place who had died or not even existed so Monty got everything after his, their, parents had passed.
'Apologies sir, I didn't want to disturb your, er, conversation,' he glanced uneasily around the room, 'but you wanted me to let you know if any letters from the Thunders came with the mail coach. I'm afraid they did not.'
'Very good, um,' Monty floundered, the other thing about suddenly aquiring an estate from a parallel timeline was having staff (such as they were) who knew who you were but you had never met.
'Yes, very good Frobisher, you may go.'
The butler nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door as he went. Monty frowned at the empty armchair in the corner, and sat at his desk. He knew full well Marlowe wasn't really there, but the presence of the ex-chaos mage was something of a comfort; he didn't quite know why Marlowe was the figure his brain had dredged up to keep him from going completely over the edge in Asylum, but in a place like that you took whatever you were given and...
'Let's face it,' said Monty to the room in general, 'it's not like things are exactly sane here at the moment...'
Viscount Taurnil of the Nethersidhe, Faithful of the Morrigan, Bearer of the Sword 'Terror', the Carrion Knight
Prof. Monty Ravenscroft, BEsO, MDiv - Serpentine U.