Today’s snippet, titled “Fine Brandy & Foul Plans”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign (sort of the “King Maker” adventure path). The intention behind this was to illustrate events occurring in the world, but away from the PCs. They’re supposed to be writing their own pieces about actual in-game events. We shall see if any materialize.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
– – – – – – – – – – –
      “…the attacks have stopped then, entirely?”
      “So it would seem, Klim. Time will tell.”
      Lucille Saine hesitated outside the doorjamb. Atop a large round tray, she carried two snifters of pale blue crystal rimmed in silver and a decanter of her uncle’s favorite brandy. It was half-empty, as he had instructed, for if she brought it to the two men full, Reeve Kliment Roget would not leave until it had been drained, at which time he would have to be poured into a carriage and escorted home. The last time that had happened, the Reeve had voided his belly of all that expensive liquor – not to mention the two pigeons, a mountain of mash, and triple servings of white asparagus in butter – all over the interior of a brand new fiacre.
      Two years later and it still smelled faintly of vomit and garlic.
      “There’ll be shortages this winter; even with the surplus we bought-”
      The Reeve’s voice interrupted. “At considerable cost!”
      “Aye. That which we paid dearly for, from New Stetven. Not that the Usurper gives a fart for the good people of Restov. He only sent the brokers and farmers to us to avoid angering Sellemius.”
      “Hold your tongue, Lev. Words like those could see you to the block.”
      Her uncle made a dismissive grumble and Lucille gripped the edge of her tray tighter. Were Uncle Lev to be tried as a traitor, surely mother and I would join him at the gallows…
      “I fear naught from that dog sitting high in the Ruby Fortress. Besides, Klim, you worry too much. Agnessa wards these rooms before we meet and there’s no one here to hear, the servants have all been dismissed for the evening.”
      She could hear the Reeve shifting in his chair – Lucille knew it was he and not her uncle by the distinctive creak of the brittle old leather cushion Kliment insisted he sit on every time they met here.
      “And Lucille,” he said. “Your niece is lurking about somewhere and, Gods be Good, I just cannot trust a half-blood as I might.”
      Uncle Lev growled. “Lucille is a fine girl and I love her as my own. I’ll not listen to your impugn her lineage just because Agnessa rebuffed you all those years ago and chose my brother instead.”
      “She’s a young woman now, not a girl, and even if she weren’t a half-blood – towdies can’t be trusted to keep a secret.”
      Lucille’s cheeks colored and she was not entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or fury.
      “Klim, consider this a gentleman’s warning. You watch your mouth when speaking about my niece or I’ll bust your lip here and now.”
      “Aye, all right.”
      There was a brief pause and Lucille wondered briefly if she should pop in now and pretend as if she had not heard a word – though certainly, Uncle Lev would know she had, he could always tell when she lied – or if she should wait for the subject to change.
Before she could choose, the Reeve began to speak again.
      “Since we’re on the subject of the little lady, Lev, I really have to say I’m surprised you’ve allowed her to see so much of that golden-haired nancyboy priest. Next thing you know, she’ll be eloping off into the hinterlands with him and all your plans will be for naught.”
      Plans? she frowned. What plans?
      “Bah. Lucy’s a dutiful girl and she’s not possessed of even a single foolish bone in her body. She’ll have an exciting little flirtation with the fellow when he blows through town, but it will go no further. Besides, the world he and his comrades live in is fraught with danger. Like as not, he’ll end up dead on one of their forays into the Stolen Lands and we’ll never hear from him again. A broken heart will be a small price to pay.”
      “You’re more confident than I, Lev. If it were my daughter-”
      “If it were your daughter, she’d be ugly as a fall sow and you’d be lucky to find a dirt-farmer to marry her.”
      Kliment laughed long and loud.
      Using a shelf to prop up the tray, Lucille managed to free a hand and pop open the decanter. She took a swig of the fiery, fruity beverage straight from the bottle. Pigs, the both of them. Disgusting, how they talk… But what plans, Uncle? What plans?
      She leaned closer to the door, straining her ears – the pointed tips hidden beneath her hair, as always.
      “Look, Lev, I don’t mean to intrude on your family business anyhow. But I’ve seen the way she looks at him. Lovesick. I know it well – saw it a million times in the mirror before Agnessa married Liam. And I am just warning you, as a friend, to keep your eyes on her.”
      “Aye, I will. You just keep yours off – you handsy git. I see that same look on your face from time to time and-”
      “Its the hair,” the Reeve said, a wistful tone in his voice. “Its just like her mother’s… black as a raven against that sweet, porcelain skin. And the eyes – Lev – I thought I could drown in Agnessa’s, but I feel like I could float forever in hers. And by the Gods, that arse. Calistria take me now, but I could just-”
      The heavy smack of a fist against flesh silenced the Reeve and shocked Lucille so soundly that she nearly dropped the platter. The glasses chimed against each other and she winced – the jig was up. Steeling her courage, Lucille pushed her shoulders back and forced her lips to form a smile.
      “Evening, Uncle. I thought I’d clear away your supper plates and bring you gentlemen a bit of brandy. Oh! Reeve Roget, have you had a fall? Your face is twenty shades of red!”
      “Clumsy me, knocked myself in the cheek is all. I do gesticulate so, don’t I?”
      Lucille made a simpering acknowledgement of his blatant lie and gave a little bow, sliding the tray onto the table with one hand and lifting their stacked supper plates deftly in the other. As she turned to leave, her gaze met Uncle Lev’s and he squinted, appraising her reaction. With as guileless an expression as she could manage, Lucille bobbed a curtsy at him and departed.
      By the time she reached the exterior door, she could no longer hear their voices, but she was fairly certain she had already heard more than she should have. Next time, they’ll ask Mother to ward even the anteroom – especially against me, she thought, heading toward the kitchens. I suppose I had better get to her first…

– – – – – – – – – – –

Note: Image is “Brandy 2” by mpflournoy from SXC.hu