Chapter 18 - Arroch's Audience III
Arroch was growing comfortable around the North Star very quickly. His earlier fears of madness, slowly fell then drifted gently down, down, down… onto finally, acceptance. His "village" analogy comforted his landing.
Once he lost his fear of the crazy giant, the waves of whatever kind of energy he was feeling no longer frightened him. When the mad high king had the ox with him on a pantry raid, the waves felt as if they were reverberating off of the smaller walls, and the warmth felt… good. The vibrations massaged his body, and relaxed him.
"AH!! Raid anything you want to taste, man… But if ye finds the figs, dried OR… fresh? I will be happier, HA!!"
Arroch just shook his head and figured he might never again in his life be in a royal pantry, with carte blanche. Anything that took his fancy, he took some out. There were trays and dishes and cups stacked up on a stout table with shelves above it. What else were those for, but for use.
Arroch knew what figs looked like, he had them a few times before. He had no idea what dried and pressed figs would resemble. The king finally burst into joy when he finally found a small barrel of fresh figs, and loaded up a couple bowls with them.
They each had a tray, and he followed the king back out to the room they had been in. The leather stuffed chairs and the stout but not huge polished wooden table made their eating and drinking the fine-mead fairly intimate.
Since surprise was no longer in Arroch's vocabulary, he just sat back and tried to roll with the punches.
"My king?"
In between fig chewing, the king replied as soon as he swallowed without hurrying.
"Aye."
"Is it rude, to ask your… name? I have never heard of it, come to think about it. To us pickles? You are simply… 'the king', or 'the North Star'. I offer my king no offense. Just my curiosity."
"Pah. It is no matter. The steward's name is Stuart. If you are private and idle with the man? He likes it when people use his name."
"So, my king. Shall we keep stirring our plan like a porridge some more?"
"Oh, I would try to keep doing it all through the night. We should drink until we laugh over even silly ideas. When you grow tired, let me know. We have extra rooms here, or you can go off if you desire. Plans such as these? Should not be made in haste."
"I still can not believe my good fortune, that you approve of the basic soil of my plan."
"Aye. When we both think we are ready, I would consult Wulfgar, and the steward of course. And who would you consult, Ox. Your men?"
"I was going to ask my king how I should handle that. I am not sure. As I said, Theyer and Sooth, have a respect for what we have come to call 'the oracle'. Before I once sat here with my king? Sooth and Theyer and I all agreed, we should all counsel each other, upon its use."
"As I said, Eira all but runs from me. Yet… you are correct, Arroch. The women all make the plan much more sound. Young men, with young women… all with many fine, strong sons. How can we pack our sack, as you say, with even more big-men? You were saying, about Ryeamund and the woodcutters, Ryeamund and the many smiths. More smiths and woodcutters, perhaps?"
"Hum. I should laugh, I almost said my king is wise for suggesting it…"
And they both laughed easily.
"How do me and my king play this on the girls? The girls follow Eira in most ways."
"We guess at portions of our plan, Arroch. What say… we plant the field in this manner. Your men, and the girls, will all simply believe that 'the plan' was brought before the North Star, and that I approved. We can work through the steward and Wulfgar… we avoid losing people that way."
"Will my king want my audience kept secret?"
"What are your thoughts on the matter, Arroch."
"Well. My younger self, would want to brag. Not long ago? I would not brag, but, if anyone knew I was friendly with the North Star himself? I can not lie, I would be proud if they found out on their own. These days? I worry about the secrecy of the plan. My own pride does not come before trying to help the southern farmers."
"Arroch. You would forego the worship and honor that would be surely heaped up on you?"
"Is not our plan, the more important matter?"
"Aye, I suppose. Your king is now in your debt, Arroch."
"In what manner? I am to serve my king, in all ways. I would have my king owe me nothing."
"You kingsmen are to be paid in respect, and not coin. Now our plan is robbing you of that respect. For our plan to work? On this command, you will all be living poorly for a time."
"Will we not get by?"
"Aye, but starving is no fun. Besides. At the end of the plan. If it is successful? I would rather not have half starved waifs performing the work. I am wondering about a band of Ravens, supplying you all, on the sly. The smoked and salted goods, keep well. Perhaps some Raven hunters, as well?"
"Hmm. Ryeamund did smith work and woodcutting for extra coin. Perhaps, we could add in a few 'merchants'? That would account for the hunters, and the goods they were selling. I could then, have a second job… aiding the dried food merchant?"
"Yes, Arroch. It hides a few more men, in each district. Also? Meeting someone at a lease farm, would be a matter for gossip. Meeting someone at work, or, at a merchant's shop… much more normal appearance."
"It would also disguise our secret supply of food. Many would assume I pilfer my employer's pantry, behind his back. Or that I were paid in whole or in part with foodstuffs."
"This is not bad for a first planting, Arroch. Now? Let us simply drink more fine-mead. The work is done for now, man."
"If my king requires me to drink more fine-mead, and eat more morsels? I shall have to find the courage to do so."
They laughed and toasted their plan.
Arroch grinned as a madman might.
Same village.