"I know. Be safe, Larisa." Olga hugs her sister tight, before releasing the witch to go on her journey. The priory is where the man said it would be, on the main road headed East, past the trading town. The sun hangs low in the sky as she sees the sign that points her to her destination. Following a dirt path past a small stone wall, she sees the priory, an idyllic and tranquil cluster of a few buildings. The path leads her past a small but well maintained garden, into a circular courtyard. The main manor building lies before her, with a small stone chapel off to the side. Various monks and nuns wander the grounds, and across the courtyard, she sees several muscular figures striking poses. All at once, they thrust forwards their hands, and fire erupts from their fingertips. Larisa realises that this is a training ground for warrior monks. A friendly looking young man with tonsured hair and a bright smile approaches, smoothing his robe. "Good evening, madam. May I help you?"
She was a little surprised at the place. She expected it to look more shady. It might still be. There was no way to know for sure from what she saw of the church. But this looked different than the rest. Like the kind that might actually be serious about their religion instead of using it as an excuse to get away with whatever they wanted. But her hopes could still be a bit too high. She wasn't here on the best circumstances. They looked like fighters, but weren't outwardly hostile yet so the danger didn't seem like too much so far. "I'm here to collect my brother. I have business with a priest here who wanted to meet with me."
Kuril leads him to the side of the stables, scratching at his bandaged forehead. "Drink? I bought a few bottles of this stuff from some mongol trader back in my homeland. Apparently it comes from some islands at the edge of the world." He holds up a porcelain bottle. "Look, like I said, my men were too drunk to do their duty today, and people died because of it. I've been in more fights than I can count, but I've never led men before. The responsibility falls eventually upon me, but I still have to punish my men. My question is, what would be a fair punishment?"
"Hello there, and yes, that is my name." Allune said with a bow, and with the inquisitor's question. She raises her head. "Yes, we've currently joined Sir Mszks- er... we've currently joined his group to help get rid of those black knights." The busty blond's cheeks turn red as she failed to pronounce Mszczuj's name properly.
(The Priory) The monk smiles. "Ah, that, um, Ilya fellow, right?" He gives a chuckle. "We have a small brewery here. Apparently master Ilya quite enjoys ale. He's sleeping it off in Brother Madog's chambers. I assume Brother Madog would be the one who asked to see you, if that's the case. He should be up in the prior's study. He's filling in while the prior is away on business. Shall I give you directions, or would you like me to guide you up?"
She took in the scene. Partially in awe, and partially to examine emergency exits if she needs to. "No. I'll find my way if you can just point me in the right direction."
Marguerite gives a pretty chuckle. "Don't worry, I'm finding Polish names next to impossible to pronounce, too. We decided to give him command for the moment, so we'll be heading north into Teuton territory soon enough." She looks at the bathroom door. "Is it occupied? They have plenty of tubs in there, you can go in without needing to share." She looks around a second. "Oh, and, sorry to be intrusive, but are you a Christian?"
Mszczuj take small smell of drink, he still have dutties today after all and must be egzample for his men. "Drinking men, in time of their duty, is seriosly crime and it must be punishment. If that happen outside fortress, I would killed this one who it was idea to scary others. They must know, that when they break the rules it will be consequences." He bite his mustache. " But we now need all our men to fight with enemy, and we can't lose any more. So I think we now need to shame them just a little. Let's whip bare ass of this one who it was idea in public and send all your men to cleaning all latrines on the castle. And most important, they have to know for what is that punishment and make it clear that punishment would be much harder if not circumstances. "
"Of course. To find your brother, go inside, up the stairs, and take the last door on the left. To speak to Brother Madog simply head up the stairs, and go through the big double doors. They'll be the first thing you see. God bless you, lady, and have a lovely day." He begins walking towards the garden, before looking back. "Oh, and... about Brother Madog. He can seem a bit... odd, but he's a fine man, so don't feel insulted if he's somewhat lethargic. He doesn't mean it personally." He bows, and goes back to gardening.
He pours a clear liquid into two small cups, sipping at his. "Ahh, love this stuff. Sakay, I think the trader called it. Yes, that seems like a fair punishment. Have you been in command a long time?"
"I understand." She really didn't have high opinions of this man despite having never met or even with the assurances of the young monk. Heading up the stairs, through the halls, she approached the door and with a bit of a struggle from her physical weakness, the doors eventually creaked open with some strain on her end to come face to face with this apparent threat, but apparent also not threat.
"Just a few weeks, but I have learning from my former commander by years. I could say, the first days are hardest, when your rank suddenly rise up." Mszczuj rise his eyebrown. "Sakay? I heard about that drink... It is much stronger than beer or wine."
"Ahah." Allune chuckled as she scratched her head, "I see, I think I remember something about the black knight's origins being somewhere in that region. Or was it crusaders?" The busty blond pondered, until Marguerite asked her questions. "Ah, Angelo is inside. And he got flustered when I entered. So I'm currently waiting for him to finish. Also... no, I'm not. Will that be a problem?"
Inside she sees a large and elaborate study, with bookcases across the walls, flanking an imposing oaken desk covered in papers. At the table sits a youngish looking priest that she initially takes for a pretty boy, before getting closer and deciding that instead of being handsome, she'd describe his looks as more of a strange, fae-like beauty. The priest's eyes are open, but his head is lolled to the side absent-mindedly, as he bites his nails, not acknowledging her presence. On a chair next to him sits a scruffy looking monk eating a turkey leg, who stands up when he sees Larisa, wiping grease off of his roughspun robe. "Oh, me'lass, 'ow can we 'elp ya?" His accent is difficult to understand, but intelligible enough. He looks to the priest. "Oi, Dog. Dog, get up. Madog, we got a guest. Dog, get up, ye Welsh cunt!" The monk throws the chicken leg at the priest, who finally snaps out of his reverie, and looks up at Larisa. "Oh, Lady Solomin. Please, sit down." He gestures to a chair. "Have you seen your brother? He's drunk, resting in my room in the other hallway." The bearded monk chuckles. "Heh, little bastard thought he could beat me in a drinkin' competition." He looks at Larisa. "Beggin' yer pardon, lass. I shouldn't call 'im a bastard. He seems nice enough."
Her initial reaction was to scrutinize this greasy man, but she said nothing. She was more interested in the softer looking one and what he was up to, but there were issues to deal with first. Her brother was apparently alive and not in any danger. Just being an idiot again. That was better than what she feared. Doing her best to be polite and not insult the priest, she listened until he was finished and politely smiled. “He does a lot of things. Hope he hasn’t been a problem for you. I’ll collect him so we can be out of your hair as soon as we can.”
"Yeah. No one's been judging me too harshly, but still... My father's a boyar, a, um, I'm not sure what the equivalent would be over here, but pretty high aristocracy. He's pretty famous after he defeated a Mongol horde three times the size of his own army. There's a lot of pressure to match his accomplishments, but I just don't think I'm there yet." He looks at his cup and chuckles. "You're right, this stuff is pretty strong. Sorry, I shouldn't be ranting to a stranger. I must seem like a fool."
Mszczuj laught friendly. "Yes, we all beginning in the shadows of our ancestors and we all have to do our best, to surpass their action." He point at alcohol. "Do you know for what you can use it? Drink it with girl which you will share bed, It will make both of you feeling nice warm and make you more creative in bed. Girls like suprises."
"I think Mszczuj said they were originally Templars, though I'd have to look it up." Marguerite gives a hearty chuckle. "Angelo? Oh, don't worry about him, he can be a dork, but he'll be alright. Feel free to head in." She smiles. "I don't care if you're a Christian or not, personally. My job is hunting down demons, not converting unbelievers. Just, maybe try to keep it under wraps while you're in Teutonic territory. I can give you a crucifix to wear, if you don't have a religious aversion to those. The Teutons can be...well...they're not exactly renowned for tolerance and compassion. Is that a Lithuanian accent, too? Maybe try to tone that down, if you can, pretend to be Polish or something. There's a lot of bad blood, from what I've heard."
"No problem at all." The apparently Welsh priest nods. "Feel free to collect him whenever. There was just one thing I wanted to speak to you about beforehand, about these black knights everyone can't shut up about." The greasy man says "If yeh want, lass. We ain't Inquisitors. Can't keep yeh here if yeh don't want to stay." The priest nods.
Kuril laughs as well. "I'll definitely save some for such an occasion, then. Of course, I'd have to bed a girl to do that, and in Tarsovie... Well, before you can bed a girl, you have to pick one, and Tarsovie's overflowing with beautiful women. You have your eye on anyone? Had any luck?"
