An Arrival (2 of 14)

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 11th September 2007

Characters: Larstad, Harrit
Description: Larstad arrives at Barley Hills Hold
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 5, day 24 of Turn 4

The sky exploded into brilliant shards of pink and rose as the runner placed its tired hooves onto the road that would lead it and its rider to Barley Hill Hold. Larstad squinted into the evening light; the Hold was built on an outcropping of granite that overlooked a wide valley and the meandering river that carved it. Its walls were made of glinting granite that twinkled in the setting sun, but its roof was slate, carted up long ago from a quarry upriver near where the mountains fell into the forests. Barley Hill Hold wasn't a major Holding such as Amber Hills, nor was it blessed with a Crafthall, but the freestanding arch that welcomed travelers to the Holding and the fanciful water spouts along the roof bespoke the Hold's wealth.
Before the Plague had claimed his life, the Lord Holder was campaigning to separate from Amber Hills' territory, and he'd had the marks to back his claim.

**And now look at them,** Larstad thought as his runner brought him closer to the front doors and a welcoming mug of klah, **The ruling Family long dead, the population halved, and Crafters sniffing at their gates for their wealth.**

By the time his runner made it up the switchbacks, the sun was halved by the horizon and Larstad was weary to the bone. It had been a long time since he'd put so many candlemarks in the saddle. **Hold life's making me soft,** he thought as he reined his beast in at the front doors. They were metal, tarnished now but once bright and brassy.
Vineyards of grapes, the clear river and the rising sun that made up the Hold's crest were hammered out of brass, and even before he'd alighted they were pushed open and a small stream of people came out to welcome him. At their head was a paunchy, balding man with a clean shaven chin and bright blue eyes. His knots identified him as the Steward. "Merry met, Journeyman! On behalf of the Holder of Barley Hill, I bid you welcome and invite you to stay with us."

Larstad inclined his head in thanks and handed the runner's reins to the teenage boy who'd appeared at his elbow, and addressed him before the expectant Steward. "Be kind to him, lad. He's taken me a long way."

"I'll see to him myself," the boy said, then clucked his tongue at the runner to get him moving. The runner went easily, sensing that a warm stall and a good rub-down was in his immediate future. The Smith watched them go for a moment before turning to the Steward and the pages, drudges and who knew what else who had followed him out.
"Thank you, my good man. It's been a long ride."

"I can imagine. But... from where do you hail?" the Steward asked, arching a bushy eyebrow. "Amber Hills Hold, on behalf of Lord Benaroy."

"Ah." There was a world of meaning contained in that syllable -
puzzlement predominantly, Larstad thought. They'd asked for a guard, not a smith. But to his credit, the Steward managed to bite his tongue against his questions and ushered the Journeyman inside. A whirlwind tour of the Hold was followed by a request to meet with the Holder after he'd freshened up. Larstad found himself alone - and grateful for it - in a large guest suite in the Family's Wing.
Thoughtfully he pulled off his dusty gloves and dropped them on the back of a chair. The room was cozy and pleasant, and furnished with a man in mind. The furniture was leather and functional and the walls painted in a soothing dark tone and hung with tapestries in bold geometric patterns. There was no evidence of a woman's handiwork, Larstad noted with pleasure. Women were annoyances - fluttering, empty-headed things with pretty eyes and distracting voices, and their taste in furnishings was abysmal.

Unfortunately, though, there was a candle in the corner to mark the time, rather than a more expensive clock. The Smith felt a pang of disappointment at its lack; the ticking of a clock was inherently soothing and helped him think.

But clocks were luxuries, and he'd only recently been settled long enough to build himself one. Barley Hills Hold had invited him into their territory to work, anyway, and he had every intention of solving their little problem... even without a clock.

Although it would certainly make it less pleasant.

Last updated on the September 13th 2007

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An Arrival (2 of 14)