Sunset on the Orchards

The Lover's Kiss

The next morning, Opal and Irvin walked together out of the servant's quarters and towards the docks. they were both dressed in the garb of servants, and armed with small knives concealed in  belts under these clothes. The day was fairly dark, a thunderstorm having settled over the island. Rain fell in droves and the winds tossed up mighty waves on the surrounding sea making travel impossible. The trade-ship itself was the sole vessel harbored on the island, held by heavy metal chains to the large stone docks, so as to weather the storm. Guards patrolled on the docks before it, and a few even ventured inside. Torches burned bright on the deck of the ship and the dock, still burning despite the oppressive hammering of the rain. Opal wished she had been able to bring her conspirator's cloak, but it would have raised altogether too many suspicions. So she had to walk cold and soaked to the bone. Unsurprisingly, as they walked out onto the large stone pier, the guards did not question them. It was common for the Earl, Morris, or the visiting aristocrats to send servants to market to make purchases. Waves splashed against the pier, sending water over the duo and the four patrolling guardsmen. Reaching the trade-ships side, the two climbed up a short ladder to the swaying deck. No one stood on the deck, all of the occupants sensibly having retreated to the holds below. At the stern of the ship, to the left of the captain's quarters door was another door. This one lead not into a lavish bedroom for the rich captain, but instead down into the holds below. Irvin went first, opening the door with a creak barely audible over the rising ferocity of the storm. From below the sounds of laughter, music, and song where heard as the ship's many passengers busied themselves, waiting for the storm to pass. Opal and Irvin descended the wooden stairs down to the first hold, which held many rows of bunks, on which sat a variety of well-dressed figures talking in the relatively dark hold. The only light came from a small lamp set on a crate at the far end of the hold, emitting its soft warm glow to highlight a sheaf of parchment on which a woman was writing. Irvin stepped forward and called out in a shout, "Look to me noble merchants! This one and I request an amount of quicksilver, one sufficient in quantity so as to bring fresh life and health to the great Earl of this island, for he has so requested such a tincture! Price is of no concern to one such as he! Step forward you that has such an item and bring it to barter with we!" A few merchants turned and started to speak but were silenced as a tall and ancient looking woman rose from the hold's back. "Shush you all! Granny Appleseed has what you want, servant boy! All manner of cures and fortifying potions I possess! Quicksilver you want, eh? That I do have, and in abundance. Enough for you Earl? Three vials a week, I advise, if you wish him many more long years." She spoke. The other merchants grumbled amongst themselves, but nevertheless submitted the barter to Madam Appleseed. Little did they show it, but they were all secretly scared of the ancient woman. She was...strange. People whispered in hushed tones about what she did to her enemies, her true age, and the real malevolence hiding behind her falsely kind eyes. Irvin approached Appleseed as she produced a large box of vials filled with silver liquid from beneath a bunk at the end of the hold. The bunk was obviously her's, adorned with several bones, dried herbs, and strange concoctions. As well as a stack of books devoted to mysticism and magics. "What price for these? We can meet almost any you throw our way, but our reserves of slotted coin are still in themselves limited." Irvin asked, picking up a bottle and examining it while Opal glanced at the more shady merchants, fingering her knife. Appleseed opened her mouth and replied "For these, I would give you they for the price of ten hundred and fifty gilded coins and a favor." Irvin grimaced at the price, but nevertheless agreed to pay it, merely asking one other question "Very well, the price will be paid. But one must ask before one pays, what favor do you wish of us?" Appleseed issued a crooked smile at him "Carry you this simple music box into your orchard, and set it to play at the final hour of the day. Set adrift on the winds of fate has it been, and now reaches its restful end. Let it bring true song and sorrowful beauty to this saddened isle. Know if you do not do this, all of your endeavors will be cursed." Irvin gave her a look of confusion as she held aloft a small wooden music box, decaying and filled with rusting gears. It was obviously of gnomish construction, but looked as if it had been neglected for many a year. Irvin then spoke "This is acceptable, your deed will be done and the funds paid at high noon tomorrow. The silver will be carried by I and Opal, the lady here, to the palace. Half funds can be paid now by way of coin purse on our persons." He then handed her a large bag, filled with gilded coin. She snatched it away from him greedily and stuck it under the bunk, eyes filled with a vague delight. "Pleasure doing business, dears. Now, have a most marvelous day and know that Granny's favor is yours." Irvin lifted the crate while Opal took the small music box. It felt strangely warm in he hands, and she could have sworn that it was humming slightly, a noise just on the border of perception. It felt...alive. She shook her head and shuddered. The quicker this thing was gone, the better. They exited to the deck, the eyes of the entire hold following the two servants as they departed. Opal went to sit in the Orchard of apple trees, not daring to cross the newly met Granny Appleseed. There she waited until midnight and turned the crank of the box, filling the orchard with a discordantly haunting melody and provoking a number of black flies out of the box's mechanisms. Opal shuddered at the sight, and left to bed in her quarters. In the meanwhile, Irvin returned the quicksilver to Morris' quarters and himself departed to watch the Earl's few remaining fervently loyal supporters, listening for any hint of knowledge of the conspiracy. He heard none and went to bed confident in the integrity of the plans in place. Morris found that the Earl cared not of the death of Sir Crawle, and immediately approved the retrieval of another alchemist from wherever one could be found. the conspiracy advanced yet once more, and Silvester was unknowingly approaching a metaphorical dagger to the heart. His reign was ready to be ended, all that had to be done was to have him accept a supposed cure for all his many ills. And then that would be all. Morris could rule.