Traditions of Dead Generations

Round Two - The Bones, Pt. 3

“Well, hello, lass. What did you say your name was...?”

“Tatev, m'lord – ye can call me Tatty though, if it pleases you.” Tatty shrugged one bare shoulder coquettishly to her dimpled cheek, causing her more-than-ample cleavage to almost completely obscure her throat. It was the most cleavage Petrus could buy on short notice, and he was pretty sure the madame had charged him by the yard.

“Lovely girl, lovely.” the big knight grinned and dry-washed his hands as if contemplating an extremely large and overdue meal. His Templar's surcoat, black belt, sheath, and greatsword were all askew from the haste with which he had attended this summons. “This – ah – message your employer has for me, then...”

“You'll get the message, m'lord,” Tatty giggled, “Just as soon as  we get back to the Parlour." Petrus shook his head from the shadows of the castle wall. Bogdan was making this too easy. He'd known the harlot-gambit would work this well, of course, but he still cringed on behalf of his big friend. His weakness for the flesh of women - or fleshy women - would be the death of him some day. Which, Petrus considered, might be more or less what Bogdan had in mind.

Tatty led the Templar through the servant's gate, and Petrus stepped from the shadows to his friend's side.

"Hello, Sir Bogdan." The knight startled and had his sword half-drawn before he recognised he surgeon. Tatty stood aside and Petrus tossed her a small bag of coin. "Thanks, Tatty."

"I - wait, what?" Bogdan looked mystified. "I - you - but she -"

"Come on, Bogdan. I need your help. You wouldn't have come out here if it'd been me who summoned you." The knight looked deeply betrayed.

"Bloody right I wouldn't!" he hissed. "I'm supposed to be in contemplation! Complete silence, isolation and fasting until Friday!"

"And you're doing a brilliant job of it, Bogs! I applaud your devotion. Come on, the lodge is down the Tanner's Way, if I'm not mistaken."

 "What... what lodge? Petrus, you bastard, give me one good reason I shouldn't just break your nose and go back to my cell?"

"Because this is far more interesting than sitting in quiet, hungry bloody contemplation in that empty castle. Because you want to come with me, and you know it. Because - here's a bonus - you couldn't break my nose if you tried anyway. Ah! Oh, that has got to be it. See that there?"

Bogdan held his tongue long enough to look in the direction Petrus was pointing. Among the sand-coloured stalls lining the sand-coloured road was a particularly sand-coloured, windowless block of a building adorned with a very dignified-looking Latin inscription carved into a sandstone block.

"Rex Leovind II turgurium," he read. "This is it. Bogdan, mind knocking?"

The Templar stood straight and tossed his long, stringy brown hair over his shoulder, contemplating the building.

"What's inside?" he asked, curiosity plainly having won out over any indignance. He appraised the building's multiple storeys as if deciding how best to lay a siege.

"No idea." Petrus shrugged. "But I gather your Brothers in Arms have regular business here. Thought you might have a better chance of getting in than me." Bogdan shrugged.

"True though that may be," he started, "That doesn't mean I can get you in." Petrus gave him a weary look, and Bogdan shrugged again. "Alright, so perhaps we could storm the place, you and I. But for what? And which side would we be on, should it come to blows? I'll have you know I won't attack my Brothers. This time."