To Walk the Green Earth: Part 2, Ms. Belveid
Photo by Elizaveta Komar
Part 2 - Ms. Belveid
“Evening Clovis!” Called Ms. Belveid, the widow who lived down the hall from me.I waved dutifully, hoping to skirt the usual session of small talk and the report on how her boy was doing in university.
Alas, she was upon me faster than usual.
“Clovis,” she said, approaching with a purposeful gait, “I heard something this afternoon from the other ladies, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it, seeing as how you bury people.”
I shrugged, “You’ll have to tell me what you’re talking about, I’m afraid.”
And I was afraid.
It was bad enough listening to Ms. Belveid go on about the usual trivial happenings around Athenden, but she sounded truly ecstatic. I tapped the ring, still in its place on my finger, though tragically quiet at the moment. My vision had returned to its typically dull level, and now my hopes to experiment in peace were dashed.
“Well,” she began, “Ethis was out at the market—normally she goes on Tuesday, but she’s having a birthday party tomorrow night, I’m sure you’d be welcome to join me if you like—when she heard the paper girl shouting something about a murder. Now, you don’t know Ethis like I do, but believe me when I tell you she’s got a nose that can’t stay put!”
She giggled as I nodded solemnly, spinning the ring on my finger.
“Anyway, so she picked up a paper—paid a whole 50 cents for one—and read the entire article. She was late to work because she still had to do her shopping afterwards. Oh! You should come to her party, it won’t just be girls, some of them bring their men along and they drink and swap stories in the parlor. And Mr. Rine does know how to sing as well, why, you should hear him as he belts out the Casal De Tolos! Simply marvelous! If it weren’t for the war he could have been famous.”
I nodded, “Tragic, truly. Anyway I don’t know anything about a murder, and I’m quite tired, good night Ms. Belveid.”
She did not relent. “Oh, that’s not all though!” She started.
I suppressed a groan and leaned against the crumbling plaster wall.
“Go on then. I have a moment.”
“You’re so patient!” She said with a smile, “My old Weston used to tell me I could deafen the Good Lady with all my jabbering. Anyway, let me get to the point, I know.”
I returned her smile through gritted teeth.
“So Ethis was telling us about everything she read in the morning paper, about the murder.” She said, her hands beginning to wave excitedly. “The paper said no one knows the young girl’s name—she had joined in with a caravan from Dunhearth, but was a mute—but anyway, after she got to town she didn’t last long. The paper says it was strangulation, but there’s no known motive for the young noble to murder the girl. Now Ethis, she always has her suspicions, of the darkest sort, if you know what I mean, but the witnesses reported no signs of foul play. The young lord Terregren was seen standing over her body, and then fled the scene.”
I shook my head, “Sorry, Ms. Belveid, this is all new to me. I haven’t buried any mysterious mute girls.”
She smiled a horrible grin, “Oh, but that’s the worst bit, see. When the officers came to the Terregren house to talk, no one answered, so they let themselves in, and what did they find?”
I waited for an answer expectantly.
“Jasper Terregren, hanging from the rafters!”
My face twitched at the name.
“So you do know something!” She pronounced.
“Ms. Belveid, even if I did, you should know that I can’t tell you anything. We grave diggers aren’t paid to gossip about the dead.”
A hurt look crossed her face. “It’s not gossip, it’s just investigation. Did you bury him then?”
“If I tell you, will you let me retire for the evening?”
She smiled, “I promise, you’re such a dear, Mr. Dakar.”
“All I know is that I buried a young man today who was called Jasper. I don’t know if it is the one you’re thinking of. Athenden is a large city, after all.”
Her grin grew wider, “But how many young men named Jasper get buried so close together?” She asked. “Tell me one last thing, and I’ll bring over some treats in a moment.”
I sighed, but if Ms. Belveid has one redeeming quality, she has an excellent taste for treats. “Very well. What is it?”
“Was there anything strange about the funeral?” She asked, her face had grown serious.
I stopped fiddling with the ring.
“Well,” I said, thinking over the day, “There wasn’t a priest, and everyone seemed rather angry.”
“That proves it!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands.
“Proves what, Ms. Belveid?” I asked, realizing I shouldn’t have as soon as the question was out of my mouth.
“Well, you see, Ethis thinks the young lord Terregen was so enraptured by the young girl’s beauty that he simply had to have her, and when she refused, he pursued her. Somehow, his youthful passions overcame his sensibilities, and he accidentally killed the girl. Ashamed of his own actions, he hung himself. Of course, the officers aren’t sure exactly how he died. They even said it may have been murder, but I think they’re just trying to defend the dignity of house Terregen.”
“And so,” I said, “Because no priest would dare go near the funeral, it proves he committed two grievous sins in close succession, first murder, then suicide.”
“Isn’t it awful?” she asked, grinning again.
“Terrible.” I answered as I opened my door. “If you’ve got any of those short biscuits with jam, I think those will pay for the information.”
“Oh, Clovis!” she said, “You are a treat! Just wait ‘til the girls hear this!”
“You didn’t hear it from me, Ms. Belveid!” I said, and then shut the door behind me. I turned the lock, took a deep breath, and exhaled softly.
Peace at last.
For some time afterwards I sat in my old wooden rocker and stared at the ring.
Truth be told, I didn’t even know where to start.
The band had grown quiet, and I feared that whatever it was, I had ruined it. I had released its power, and now it was little more than a shimmery trinket.
And yet, as I stared at the rune by the light of flickering candles, I realized the lines still moved, softly and slowly, then suddenly whipping into a distinct pattern—though never the same pattern twice.
I dared to hope that perhaps it simply needed more time.
I awoke in my chair to the sound of someone banging on the door.
Of course, I’d forgotten Ms. Belveid’s plate of treats, and she wasn’t one to be ignored.
I stood up groggily and stumbled towards the door.
“One moment!” I called, “I’m coming!”
A husky voice shouted back, “Clovis Dakar, open the door!”
I stopped.
“Who is it?” I asked.
The voice replied, “This is the Athenden watch, Mr. Dakar, we’ve just got a few questions is all.”
I glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. It was nearly one in the morning, hardly the time for the watch to come asking questions of innocents.
“Coming!” I shouted, though my mind was quickly looking for alternative ideas.
There was the window, of course. I lived on the second story, but there were shrubs beneath.
Could I be sure it wasn’t the watch?
I stepped up to the door as silently as possible and peered out the peephole.
Two men stood there, and both were wearing the boiled leather jerkins of the watch. My hand reached for the latch to let them in, but something gave me reason to pause.
Though I was not familiar with any watchmen besides those who occasionally strolled past the graveyard on duty, these two seemed strikingly familiar. Something in their expressions bothered me. I recognized them, but from where?
And I suddenly matched these gruff faces outside my window with the faces of those burly, sour men burying whom I thought must have been their friend.
Call it fear, or stupidity, or whatever you like, but I set my mind to do anything but allow myself to fall into their hands.
And so, after tossing on my coat and slipping a knife into my pocket, I jumped out the window.
As I walked through the midnight streets of Athenden, hearing the distant noises of barking dogs and coughing beggars, I wondered what the men would do to my home.
And I realized that I didn’t care.
What, after all, was really there of any importance? I kept most of my money in the bank, only withdrawing it if I intended to spend it—and there never was much extra to spend after rent and food. There were a few old chairs, a bed and my blankets, the clock above the hearth, trinkets passed down from my parents that meant next to nothing, actually.
At once, I knew what they were after. It was still on my finger. It was quiet, but I was sure now that it would come to life again.
I just needed to live long enough to let it work.
“Well,” she began, “Ethis was out at the market—normally she goes on Tuesday, but she’s having a birthday party tomorrow night, I’m sure you’d be welcome to join me if you like—when she heard the paper girl shouting something about a murder. Now, you don’t know Ethis like I do, but believe me when I tell you she’s got a nose that can’t stay put!”
She giggled as I nodded solemnly, spinning the ring on my finger.
“Anyway, so she picked up a paper—paid a whole 50 cents for one—and read the entire article. She was late to work because she still had to do her shopping afterwards. Oh! You should come to her party, it won’t just be girls, some of them bring their men along and they drink and swap stories in the parlor. And Mr. Rine does know how to sing as well, why, you should hear him as he belts out the Casal De Tolos! Simply marvelous! If it weren’t for the war he could have been famous.”
I nodded, “Tragic, truly. Anyway I don’t know anything about a murder, and I’m quite tired, good night Ms. Belveid.”
She did not relent. “Oh, that’s not all though!” She started.
I suppressed a groan and leaned against the crumbling plaster wall.
“Go on then. I have a moment.”
“You’re so patient!” She said with a smile, “My old Weston used to tell me I could deafen the Good Lady with all my jabbering. Anyway, let me get to the point, I know.”
I returned her smile through gritted teeth.
“So Ethis was telling us about everything she read in the morning paper, about the murder.” She said, her hands beginning to wave excitedly. “The paper said no one knows the young girl’s name—she had joined in with a caravan from Dunhearth, but was a mute—but anyway, after she got to town she didn’t last long. The paper says it was strangulation, but there’s no known motive for the young noble to murder the girl. Now Ethis, she always has her suspicions, of the darkest sort, if you know what I mean, but the witnesses reported no signs of foul play. The young lord Terregren was seen standing over her body, and then fled the scene.”
I shook my head, “Sorry, Ms. Belveid, this is all new to me. I haven’t buried any mysterious mute girls.”
She smiled a horrible grin, “Oh, but that’s the worst bit, see. When the officers came to the Terregren house to talk, no one answered, so they let themselves in, and what did they find?”
I waited for an answer expectantly.
“Jasper Terregren, hanging from the rafters!”
My face twitched at the name.
“So you do know something!” She pronounced.
“Ms. Belveid, even if I did, you should know that I can’t tell you anything. We grave diggers aren’t paid to gossip about the dead.”
A hurt look crossed her face. “It’s not gossip, it’s just investigation. Did you bury him then?”
“If I tell you, will you let me retire for the evening?”
She smiled, “I promise, you’re such a dear, Mr. Dakar.”
“All I know is that I buried a young man today who was called Jasper. I don’t know if it is the one you’re thinking of. Athenden is a large city, after all.”
Her grin grew wider, “But how many young men named Jasper get buried so close together?” She asked. “Tell me one last thing, and I’ll bring over some treats in a moment.”
I sighed, but if Ms. Belveid has one redeeming quality, she has an excellent taste for treats. “Very well. What is it?”
“Was there anything strange about the funeral?” She asked, her face had grown serious.
I stopped fiddling with the ring.
“Well,” I said, thinking over the day, “There wasn’t a priest, and everyone seemed rather angry.”
“That proves it!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands.
“Proves what, Ms. Belveid?” I asked, realizing I shouldn’t have as soon as the question was out of my mouth.
“Well, you see, Ethis thinks the young lord Terregen was so enraptured by the young girl’s beauty that he simply had to have her, and when she refused, he pursued her. Somehow, his youthful passions overcame his sensibilities, and he accidentally killed the girl. Ashamed of his own actions, he hung himself. Of course, the officers aren’t sure exactly how he died. They even said it may have been murder, but I think they’re just trying to defend the dignity of house Terregen.”
“And so,” I said, “Because no priest would dare go near the funeral, it proves he committed two grievous sins in close succession, first murder, then suicide.”
“Isn’t it awful?” she asked, grinning again.
“Terrible.” I answered as I opened my door. “If you’ve got any of those short biscuits with jam, I think those will pay for the information.”
“Oh, Clovis!” she said, “You are a treat! Just wait ‘til the girls hear this!”
“You didn’t hear it from me, Ms. Belveid!” I said, and then shut the door behind me. I turned the lock, took a deep breath, and exhaled softly.
Peace at last.
***
For some time afterwards I sat in my old wooden rocker and stared at the ring.
Truth be told, I didn’t even know where to start.
The band had grown quiet, and I feared that whatever it was, I had ruined it. I had released its power, and now it was little more than a shimmery trinket.
And yet, as I stared at the rune by the light of flickering candles, I realized the lines still moved, softly and slowly, then suddenly whipping into a distinct pattern—though never the same pattern twice.
I dared to hope that perhaps it simply needed more time.
***
I awoke in my chair to the sound of someone banging on the door.
Of course, I’d forgotten Ms. Belveid’s plate of treats, and she wasn’t one to be ignored.
I stood up groggily and stumbled towards the door.
“One moment!” I called, “I’m coming!”
A husky voice shouted back, “Clovis Dakar, open the door!”
I stopped.
“Who is it?” I asked.
The voice replied, “This is the Athenden watch, Mr. Dakar, we’ve just got a few questions is all.”
I glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. It was nearly one in the morning, hardly the time for the watch to come asking questions of innocents.
“Coming!” I shouted, though my mind was quickly looking for alternative ideas.
There was the window, of course. I lived on the second story, but there were shrubs beneath.
Could I be sure it wasn’t the watch?
I stepped up to the door as silently as possible and peered out the peephole.
Two men stood there, and both were wearing the boiled leather jerkins of the watch. My hand reached for the latch to let them in, but something gave me reason to pause.
Though I was not familiar with any watchmen besides those who occasionally strolled past the graveyard on duty, these two seemed strikingly familiar. Something in their expressions bothered me. I recognized them, but from where?
And I suddenly matched these gruff faces outside my window with the faces of those burly, sour men burying whom I thought must have been their friend.
Call it fear, or stupidity, or whatever you like, but I set my mind to do anything but allow myself to fall into their hands.
And so, after tossing on my coat and slipping a knife into my pocket, I jumped out the window.
***
And I realized that I didn’t care.
What, after all, was really there of any importance? I kept most of my money in the bank, only withdrawing it if I intended to spend it—and there never was much extra to spend after rent and food. There were a few old chairs, a bed and my blankets, the clock above the hearth, trinkets passed down from my parents that meant next to nothing, actually.
At once, I knew what they were after. It was still on my finger. It was quiet, but I was sure now that it would come to life again.
I just needed to live long enough to let it work.
Footnotes
Throwing in the randomly generated information for Clovis, you'll notice a few stats that are not all that odd, Level, XP, HP, and a STR/DEX/WILL array of abilities. On it's own, this gives us just enough to play an RPG.
Maze Rats is mechanically fairly simple. To decide the outcome of a "Danger Roll", that is, an action that is risky and cannot be easily resolved by the narrative, the player rolls 2d6 and adds their most relevant Ability Score. If the result is 10 or greater, the attempt succeeds. However, since the most common outcome of 2d6 is a result of 6-8, "Danger Rolls" are most likely going to fail. So, the best choice is to do something narratively to get around the danger without attacking it head on via a roll. Can the trolls be bartered with? Can we make a log-bridge over the crocodile infested moat? Can I jump out of a window instead of facing these thugs? Etc.
In effect, the simplicity of the rolls paired with their low rates of success means that "Maze Rats" is going to fall into players looking for interesting solutions far more often than just rolling dice to determine what happens.
The rest of the character sheet is what makes Maze Rats for me. Notice Clovis' Appearance & Personality. As I said in the last post, I knew the situation I wanted to set up, some poor individual finding a very magical ring, but I didn't know who would find it, or how. So I rolled on Maze Rats' charts and came up with this fine young grave-digger, name and all! Though I could have re-rolled until I came up with someone I liked, I find taking on the unexpected roll to be a fun challenge.
At this point I haven't given Clovis all the equipment that I rolled for him, and I'm not sure that the narrative would make sense if he was always carrying around armor and weaponry—not to mention a bear trap—so I haven't worried about it yet.
Some of the rolls in this session included, "Is it Ms. Belveid at the door?" No. "Is it someone after the ring?" Yes. "Do I recognize them?" Yes. And after that the dots were connected in my mind that these were the young men at the funeral. Likely they dug up the grave looking for the ring, and have come after me as the last person to have seen it.
And this is as far as I've played Clovis! What will happen next? I'm not sure, but it looks as if things are about to get interesting!
I do have another short journal that I may host here, which is from a completely different perspective but still uses the Maze Rats system. Who knows? Maybe the two could run parallel to each other in the same world. I hadn't considered that until just now, but it could work out.
I do have another short journal that I may host here, which is from a completely different perspective but still uses the Maze Rats system. Who knows? Maybe the two could run parallel to each other in the same world. I hadn't considered that until just now, but it could work out.
Thanks for reading along! I hope my own solo games encourage you to break out dice, pen, and paper, and Surprise Yourself!
Until next time!
-Hilander
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