Posted by Scourge on November 16, 2009
The first thing running through Harlon’s mind was pretty much the same thing that ran through his mind every morning of his life. “How on earth did he end up with a slowly-spreading woman who cared more about an obnoxious bird than him?” It wasn’t as if he didn’t love his wife in some… well, yeah… it kinda was like that, actually. 
Thirty-two years ago, his parents had some rather odd ideas about ‘marrying below his station’ and ‘ensuring top-quality offspring.’ They would not be pleased to know that the only offspring who sprung from Harlon’s loins was a degenerate artist who currently lived with a rather successful theif in a cave outside town. It was a nice cave, dry and furnished with expensive (stolen) goods, but it was still a cave.
The second thing running through Harlon’s mind was what, exactly, he was going to say to Celiaria when he surprised her at the boarding house in less than ten minutes. He couldn’t accuse her of anything. It would probably have been easier if he could.
He was still mulling the problem over when he found himself standing on the stoop of the boarding house, frowning. Lady Ansul, the proprietor of the house – one of the only reputable ones in Barend – opened the door and stood there, eyebrows arched and waiting. Harlon hadn’t even realized he had knocked yet.
“Might I help you, Captain?” she asked in a bored, cultured voice.
He stood up a little straighter. “I’d like to speak with Celiaria De Prisk… immediately.” He added the last to sound official.
“The Demi-Duchess?” she said in a way that made Harlon feel a bit like something trod under a shoe. “I will see if she is available. Wait here.”
He hardly had any choice. She closed the door in his face.
Five minutes later, Lady Ansul returned. “She will see you in the back garden.” Her eyes told the rest of the message: and you are very lucky to get to see her at all, maggot. Harlon might have imagined the ‘maggot’ bit.
He thanked the Lady and took the stone walk around the back of the house. There was a small grassy yard and some flowers, and Celiaria De Prisk, looking rather stunning in a gown of white and blue.
“You wanted to see me, Captain Harlon?” she inquired.
Harlon tried to suck in his gut as he walked over to her. “Yes. I did, in fact.”
And then silence reigned for a long moment. He found himself wishing the walk over to the house had been longer.
Posted by Scourge on November 2, 2009
Captain Harlon kept an eye out for Celiaria over the next couple of weeks. From the beginning, she seemed to do everything a highborn lady who ran away would be expected to do: she set up in an exclusive boarding house, introduced herself to all the other ladies of quality in the city, had a tea party by the frog pond behind the boarding house and bossed her servants around something awful.
It made Harlon suspicious.
“Someone who just ran away,” he mused quietly to himsefl over his porridge one morning, “should not be as pleasantly sociable as Lady De Prisk.” He swiped a glob off his chin and wiped it on the tablecloth. “She should be… in hiding or something.”
He turned to the magpie that the missus kept in a gilt cage near the window. “Shouldn’t she be nervous someone will come looking for her?”
The magpie cast a disdainful eye at Harlon before turning back to look out the window again.
The missus came gliding into the room, twittered at the magpie and then slid over the rub Harlon’s chin with a damp cloth. “How you will make a mess, Harl!”
“Dirty pig,” the magpie agreed, shooting a splat of guana at the cage floor.
Harlon sighed and pushed back his bowl. “What do you think about this De Prisk business, dear?” he asked, squinting up at his wife.
She flapped the towel and rolled her eyes. “I think you’re too old and too married to be thinking much about it, dear.” Her tone had ice at the edges.
He waved her cattiness away. “No… no… I mean, don’t you think she should be laying low? Being as she’s on the lam and all?”
“On the lam? Oh Harlon, a young lady can travel these days, you know. Really!” Chuckling, she swished back out of the room with another twitter at the bird.
Harlon stood and pushed in his chair. His wife might think the girl was simply visiting Barend – for what reason he couldn’t imagine – but he knew different. Something stunk about it. He carried his empty porrige bowl to the sink dutifully and sloshed some soapy water over it.
“Thatta boy,” the magpie screeched and then went back to watching the street.
In two minutes, Captain Harlon was striding purposefully up the cobbled street, two things running over and over each other in his mind.
Posted by Scourge on September 12, 2009
Beauty is Deceiving
When the demi-duchess of Klarianu, Celiaria De Prisk, arrived in Barend disguised as a cross between an elfish archer and an extra in a lack-of-morality play, the general consensus was that she made the city look worse than it actually was.
Through no fault of her own, aside from the callous way in which she flaunted her genetics, she made the grubbiness seem grubbier, and the muckiness seem muckier. Golden-haired and alabaster-skinned, she simply shone too bright for Barend at large.
Celiaria was beautiful, that would be obvious to anyone interested in long, blonde hair, perfect skin, even, white teeth, considerable (ahem) assets and legs longer than a Dimatraksian Plainswalker. But there was something about her beauty that bothered Captain Harlon of the King’s Own Guard. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“That’s it,” he said at last, “That’s exactly it.” He nodded morosefly to himself, digging the toe of his uniform boot into the drift of dust beside Barend’s main road. He watched her carriage roll by, gleaming gilt and enamel in the afternoon sunlight, and bemoaned the fact that he never, ever had a chance, in all his life, to get his fingers on something so delectable.
Posted by Scourge on March 16, 2009
“Scourge of Feathers” is a serial fiction blog written by me, M. Lori Motley.
This will be an on-going exploration into the world of Barend… a light-hearted romp with the motley characters who populate this fantasy world. Yes, there will be elves, dragons, orcs and vampires. Yes, there will be magic spells, medieval weaponry and enchanted amulets. Yes, there will be humor.
I certainly hope I can make you laugh!
Keep your eyes peeled (not literally…. ewwwww!) for weekly installments of the “Scourge of Feathers” fantasy adventure.
