Spin Moon Magic

[baronbalaz]

Who: The Baron and Carrot
What: A meeting of minds and blades, potentially
Where: The Balaz/DeTamble Residence
When: After dinner, Aug. 30th 2011
Rating: PG-13
Status: Closed/Incomplete

Comments

[baronbalaz]

'Oh, that's much better!'

Though he knew he was pushing it, revealing more of his strengths and abilities the longer the fight went on, just as it seemed he would fall the Noble dug his sword into the stone, using the momentum of his fall to vault into a flip, spinning twice in the air before landing, perfectly balanced on the low patio wall.

In an earnest show of exhaustion, he shook his sword arm out, flexed gloved fingers and tossed the blade into his opposite hand. Bright red lips turned up in a satisfied smile.

"It takes quite a bit to weary me, Captain, I think you've more than proven yourself." Byron had to balance indulging himself with a worthy opponent and keeping his cover, at least for now. "I would be more than happy to pick this up another night, however, please." He motioned to where Carrot had left his blade as he resheathed his own, hopping down from the wall.

"You will certainly be a more than worthy addition to Detective Potter's force, or either Watch. Until you settle in and have a regular schedule, would you consider helping me train my Watch? Most are civilians with little to no experience or knowledge of the basics, though they're quick learners, weapons training isn't the only skill necessary." Byron lead thee way back into the mansion, eyes brightening happily to catch Alba watching the two of them through the windows. As they approached the front door, Byron held up a single, slender, pale hand up to stay the Captain a moment.

He poked only his head over the threshold of the doors, sensing Alba's heartbeat retreating up the stairs.

"I hope a certain young lady has finished the dishes and started her music lesson for the night..." He called, waiting several heartbeats before hearing the light, joyful strains of a violin drifted down from the upstairs.

"You don't have children, do you Captain?" Byron asked, nodding that it was 'safe' to enter the massive house. "I highly recommend it-- Alba is, without a doubt, the best thing to ever happen to me." Pausing just inside the foyer, Byron removed the heavy pauldrons around his calves, discarding them to a corner as they made their way inside.

[cptn_carrot]

Now that was a move Carrot would be hard-pressed to match! A bit showy, but there was such economy of movement in Balaz's fighting style that he didn't sacrifice any attention or stability that Carrot could see.

The young captain found himself slightly disappointed when Byron called the match off. He'd been reluctant to go all-out at first; he generally didn't, because it was considered bad form to injure your allies, and very few of the Watch could fight even up to Carrot's standard. Now he too was finding that it was very enjoyable to let go of caution and use all his strength without having to worry about causing an actual injury.

In a real fight, you of course wanted to be the better fighter, by a large margin if possible. But when sparring, apparently, it was better to be set against someone who clearly outmatched you. He felt like he'd learned a thing or two, even from this short bout.

"I should be happy to help however I can," he replied earnestly, sheathing his own sword in turn. "I often train the new recruits at Pseudopolis Yard, and many of them have no training at all. Except in pub fights."

He noted the direction of the Baron's gaze just in time to see a small figure in the window, and remembered the little girl he'd barely glimpsed as the door was opened. Once again, it seemed almost as if Byron was trying to avoid an actual face-to-face meeting between Carrot and the mysterious 'Alba', but when it came to a small girl and a large man the Baron scarcely knew, maybe that was perfectly reasonable.

Then the Baron asked about children, and Carrot reddened. "Er, no sir. I don't." There was some question about that - about what, exactly, any offspring he and Angua might have would turn out to be. She did have a brother who was a champion sheepdog, after all. (And another brother who had been a rabid killer, but never mind that. Well, Carrot didn't mind it. Angua would insist on worrying over it, though.)

"I do work with children from time to time, though," he went on more brightly. "It's very rewarding." He removed his helmet before they went inside, stopping to wait for Byron in the entryway, and listened for a few seconds to the violin. "She's quite good at that, isn't she?"

[baronbalaz]

"She is." Byron nodded proudly. "Though I can't claim to have taught her, I just make sure she continues to practice. Town regulations that state anyone who has not come of age requires a guardian. Alba has been living with me for over a year now."

The Baron led Carrot into a lavish sitting room that had seen a fair share of traffic in the last few weeks--rugs had distinct patterns of wear from the Nightwatch meeting there before each patrol.

"If you are curious about anything specific regarding the town, I'm about as well versed in it's operations as anyone--the police station is vastly under-manned. In fact, I was considering once our monster troubles die down talking to Detective Potter about converting the Watch into a volunteer police force. The laws regarding militia are incredibly convoluted in this era, however." He shook his head, pouring wine from a carafe into two ornate glasses. He offered one to Carrot.

"I also gather you aren't familiar with the technology of this era yet? It's simple enough to learn--most of the Watch communicates using it--and if you're to work with the police you'll find a rudimentary understanding will be rather useful in the long run."

[cptn_carrot]

So Alba was not the Baron's own child. Carrot had wondered. But now he had a new concern. "Sir, are you saying it's common for children to come here alone? To be separated from their parents?" Dwarfs had extremely strong family ties, and sentimental and deep respect for their mothers in particular. It bothered Carrot to think of children being pulled away from their parents the way he'd been pulled away from Angua and from his city.

Never mind the stack of letters to his parents that he had tucked away. He wouldn't give up his daily habit of writing to them just because he couldn't presently mail the letters.

He smiled to note the inconsistency of the wear patterns in the expensive rugs. It was like being in Lady Sybil's house, all haughty grandeur over which she and Commander Vimes tromped in dirty boots, and burn scars all over the priceless furniture from the swamp dragons. No burns here, but the wear marks suggested a similar set of priorities.

Accepting the glass carefully from Balaz, he nodded. He did not take a seat, but stood at a relaxed sort of attention. "I had to work out the laws regarding militia at one point myself. Perhaps they're similar - an irreparable breakdown of law and order in the city, a request from an officer of the city who is a citizen in good standing, that sort of thing? It was a bit convoluted, but it's important to do these things properly." Much simpler, Carrot had found, to just recruit people to the real Watch if that option was available. How else would their ranks have swelled from four to over two hundred in the handful of years since his joining? "Have any of your Watch officers considered simply joining the police force?"

The technology. Ah yes. The glowing panels and mysterious buttons that made letters appear. After sending his message from the one at the City Hall, Carrot had tried to locate where the imp was kept, but had failed. The Baron, he noticed, like everyone in this town, had about his home those same glass encasements where lightning was trapped to provide light, which Abraham had vowed were not magic. Carrot had even seen these outdoors, along the streets, in place of the torches and oil lanterns he was accustomed to. He had to admit they gave much steadier and clearer light, which as a policeman he appreciated.

"No, sir, not familiar at all, I'm afraid." His eyes had strayed up to the lights as he considered them; now he returned them to Balaz with a sheepish smile. "I should like to learn. It all seems very different to what I'm used to."

[baronbalaz]

"I am aware of four--three of which I've met. Alba is unique, however, as she possesses an ability that means she's often displaced in time--her arrival in this place marks the first time she's been displaced in time and space. Timothy Drake is another, he and Alba are...rather close. The boy seems polite enough but he's also intensely private, and I refuse to pry Alba for information." Though, with Alice's recent concerns, checking up on the boy more often wouldn't be uncalled for.

"The third, Imonoyama Nokoru displays remarkable intelligence and maturity for his age. We haven't spoken in some time, but he goes to school with Alba--the fourth, Damien Wayne I only know through the town forums. It seems one of the older boys has taken charge of him, from what I can tell of their exchanges." Byron took a deep breath. "It is distressing, but there are measures to make sure the children that find themselves here are cared for. Alba misses her mother terribly, but the nature of her condition makes it mostly a matter of waiting and hoping that she'll find her way home." The Baron took a sip of his glass, seemed to contemplate it, then set it on a nearby serving tray; his expression held a mix of wistful joy and ineffable sadness.

"As for a volunteer militia, it seems there is no such thing in this country...not an autonomous one, at least. Their primary military forces are all enfolded into the same Army, but I've been reading much about this country's history, and I believe, if kept small, and just meant to handle the town's larger problems, we could organize something. Besides, for all I can tell, strange things have been happening in this town so long the Mounties, state police, gave it up as cursed ages ago. So...within reason, the law is ours to enforce, along with compliance with the police station and city hall. It's a puzzling quandary to say the least. Frontier administration was simplistic in comparison."

Byron noted The Captain's body language as he spoke; how his eyes drifted up to the lights.

'He just have no experience with technology at all, like those in the Deep Frontier.' Many in his world lived with as little technology whatsoever, the logic being that there was less with the potential to break. It helped that a good deal of what Frontier towns relied on was actually of Nobility design and meant to last for eons.

"I'm certain it is, but you're lucky to have landed in a rather user friendly era. It will be easier to teach you how to use the computer network than to explain how it works, but that, too, you'll come to understand in time. Tell me, have you a permanent residence yet? Or are you still relying on what city hall provided you with?"

[cptn_carrot]

Coming from a world where such abstract concepts as Time and Death had actual, physical incarnations, it wasn't hard to believe that a person might have a habit of becoming unhinged from time. From the Baron's description, what Alba had might be more rightly described as a condition or even an affliction than an ability. If she had conscious control over it, then surely she could have taken herself home already. Unless ordinarily she could, and Aternaville's peculiarities were stopping her now.

Carrot didn't like to think that he was being prevented from going home, to Ankh-Morpork and Angua. He was calm about it mainly because he hadn't really accepted it. It was a problem, and sooner or later he'd discover the solution. No door goes only one way.

But it bothered him far more to think of the same thing happening to children. Adults were used to taking care of themselves. They knew that sometimes circumstances made it necessary to be separated from the people they cared about, sometimes for a long time, and they knew how to be patient. The world was very different, though, for children.

He could see his own worries reflected in Byron's smooth face, so he restricted himself to a shake of his head. "That isn't right. It isn't right at all." It was some small comfort that adults like Byron were taking responsibility for the care of these children, but a stranger couldn't be a substitute for one's own parents.

Turning the conversation to police matters was a relief, though he also felt a little guilty about it, as if they really ought to fix the situation with the children before moving on to anything else. If that situation were so easy to fix, the Baron and others would surely have sent the children home already. Even if he doesn't want to, Carrot added silently, remembering Byron's obvious affection for Alba. The Baron was an honorable man; his own feelings wouldn't prevent him from doing what was best for Alba if he could. That was Carrot's belief, anyway.

"I'm sure I'll pick it up, sir." And he was sure, despite the fact that half the words Byron had just used had gone right over his head. Carrot had great enthusiasm for new advancements. He'd embraced the clacks and the message tubes with a zeal that had worried the older officers. This technology was a pretty big leap from what he was used to, but he was determined that he'd learn all about it. All of it, from the lightning devices to the message-sending boxes. It all seemed very useful.

Ah, his lodgings. Carrot smiled. "I've made some quite nice arrangements for myself, thank you." Translation: He was spending his nights outdoors. The weather wasn't too cold yet, and he'd found several very comfortable, out-of-the-way places to take shelter when he needed to sleep. The local currency that the City Hall had given him was enough for him to stay clean and fed, and to keep him in writing paper. And it wasn't as though he had belongings he needed to store. It was a satisfactory arrangement for now. Though a little voice noted that he would need to have a roof over his head before it got much colder, for now he preferred to believe he would not be here by the time it got colder.