Slave of Falsehood, Pride and Pain (Open!)

[Chris]

The sun was sinking behind the buildings in the late afternoon. A cold wind tickled across the hair on the back of Murdock's neck, and he put a hand there without thought. There were birds, at least he thought there were, it was difficult to hear them over the din of the city, and the droning of Dedicated Crissom's voice.

“There are a number of tailors who can accommodate your needs,” the Dedicated informed the small group of Soldiers as they traipsed through the streets of Hama Valon. “You may have a uniform but those with more money than sense may wish to purchase smallclothes and other... items.” The man wrinkled his nose with distaste.

Fool. We have better things to do with our time than buy smallclothes. Such was Murdock’s thought as he stood at the back of the little group, tall enough that he could see just fine. These Soldiers were a mixed bunch, some young and eager to please, others older and a little more world-weary. They didn’t need telling where to buy smallclothes from by some Dedicated who could be their son. Murdock wasn’t quite old enough to be his father but he was certainly experienced enough to know how to function without a special little trip around Hama Valon. It was all very patronising, being told to watch his pockets and, if he was a very good little Soldier, he could have a whole mug of ale in an inn. Goodness! What a lucky man he was.

It was a good idea, in theory. The Dedicated, a broad shouldered fellow who was barely free from his mother's apron strings, was responsible for showing new Soldiers around Hama Valon whilst filling them in on some of the dos-and-don’ts of the place. Which areas to avoid, where they were recommended to go for various items, not that Soldiers were permitted much in the way of personal effects. This was rather useful for the Novices perhaps, as a number of the girls were young and in need of a firm hand to keep them from getting into bother, but Murdock was too old for this pigswill. He hadn’t been a city guard for upwards of ten years to be told he needed to be accompanied at all times by a buddy.

More interesting to Murdock was the composition of the city, which was clearly a relatively new place. It lacked the legends and mystery of Tar Valon, but Murdock only had stories to go by and Far Madding was the only place he had ever lived, so Hama Valon was quite novel in that respect. But that didn’t mean he needed to be told how to function as a man grown. Bah!

Crissom seemed to think it very important that they head to one of the Inns, some place named Band of Brothers. Because hey, they were Soldiers, which meant they were technically brothers, and they’d all been so very well behaved that they deserved a quick drink before returning to the Grey Tower for the evening.

Well! Murdock had a better idea, one which involved not sitting with these boys and pretending he had anything interesting to say to them, or that they would be entertaining in any way at all to him. No, Murdock loitered at the back of the small group as they descended upon the Band of Brothers, but rather than head in through the main door he hung back a moment as if examining his boot for a stone. If Crissom looked back and saw him he could head on in, but otherwise he was going to do some exploring of his own. This is utterly ridiculous, he thought to himself as he rummaged, then shoved his large foot back into the well-worn boot. I have daughters old enough to learn to channel, and I am pretending to check my boots simply to look around without a pompous tour guide. He was above all of this.

His absence unnoticed for the time being, Murdock turned heel and made his way back into the city proper, taking a look around and smiling to himself at the momentary freedom he had been afforded by his actions. He had no idea how he would get back into the Grey Tower unnoticed or without punishment, but part of him was tempted to simply walk back to the gates and tell them what had happened then face the consequences. He was no liar and playing the lost fool was too unlike him to even attempt.

He did have some coin to his name and Murdock held it in his pocket now as he approached the nearby stalls, the few which were open at this time. The late afternoon wore on and there was nothing interesting for Murdock to purchase here, but the simple act of browsing reminded him of the Strangers Markets at home, and the various outlandish items they tried to sell there. For the first time the man felt like the Grey Tower was his home, simply because it resonated with his past and what he spent much of his time doing (the city guard was not a difficult role, given that outsiders had their weapons peace bonded, giving him time to peruse as he pleased). So although Murdock ran a finger along a necklace Giselle would have liked and had no intention of buying, he was feeling quite relaxed, for what had to be the first time in a very long while.

[Prew]

He relished the relative freedom Fen Garlan experienced upon his Raising. While a Dedicated did not have quite the latitude of movement that Asha’man did, he found it far superior to his time as a Soldier. At least now he could move about Hama Valon at will, that is, at least when he wasn’t attending classes, doing chores, studying or the myriad other tasks the Tower expected of him.

Ah, but to wander in the city, that was special. Despite the cold wind that blew down the crowded streets this late afternoon, a wind much colder than any he had known in Altara, Fen was enjoying himself. Truth be told, the only city he had visited before coming to the Tower was Jehannah, and his stay there had been but one night. He marveled at the jumble of stalls, the street hawkers and their wares, the vibrant colors of the clothing of passersby, the entire bustle of the city; such a far cry from the sleepy little village of his birth. Fen said a silent thank you to his Mistress, for without her insistence, none of this would have been possible. Of course he couldn’t reveal to anyone, not even his former roommate and only friend Adrian Danethor, that his dreams were visited by one of the Chosen.

Another advantage of being allowed outside the Tower was the freedom to check Sandor, the Aiel who had guided him to the Tower, the Aiel that owed him Toh. Not that Sandor was pleased to be kept waiting, prevented from returning to the Threefold Land by some ridiculous sense of honor, but that, Fen knew, was the savage’s problem, not his. That the man prattled some nonsense about feeling like a gai’shain, at least he had finally taken a room at an inn instead of camping out in the wilderness of the surrounding countryside.

As Fen pushed his way through the throng of merchants, artisans, and others crowding the street he caught sight of a tall man sporting a short beard, wearing the uniform of the Soldier. As Fen scanned the crowd he could see no other from the Tower. Odd, that. A Soldier out alone in the city?

A few months back Fen would not have had the temerity to approach the man. But thanks to Seth Asha’man’s Appearances class, his confidence was at an all-time high. Stepping up to the man who was holding necklace as if contemplating a purchase, Fen, with as much authority in his voice as he could muster, asked “Soldier! Why are you out alone in the city? Who gave you permission?”

By the Shadow! This was thrilling!

[Chris]

Sadly, the enjoyable period of time where he was alone to peruse the wares of Hama Valon was limited. Murdock ought to have strayed further from the Inn where the Soldiers were drinking, but he hadn’t expected to be singled out quite so quickly. Maybe the uniform stands out more than I thought the man sighed to himself, keeping his irritation from his face when someone barked at him to get his attention. It would bound to happen sooner or later, and it was simply unfortunate that it was “sooner”.

It was a Dedicated who was speaking to him, and as Murdock’s eyes strayed lower he realised that he was a rather short, unimpressive looking one at that. He couldn’t help the slight twitch that tugged at the corner of his mouth, but following the given protocols he set the necklace down and delivered a salute that was probably appropriate for a Soldier to give to a Dedicated. Just because a Dedicated had already managed to spot him away from the group he was with, didn’t mean he was going to panic or get upset – he would simply revise his strategy for the next time he was out in the city. There would be a next time, he was sure of it.

Murdock did make sure to take a slight step back from the Dedicated. He was close enough that he was feeling their height difference, and he had no intention of breaking his neck looking down – no doubt the Dedicated was not interested in straining his neck upwards either, and there were no small boxes to put him on to increase his height.

“Light shine on you Dedicated,” he responded in a timely fashion, his voice low and calm, “I am out perusing some wares and stretching my legs.” No, even now, he couldn’t bring himself to make up some foolish lies to try and assuage any blame. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? The worst thing to ever happen to Murdock had already taken place. “I'm alone because I split from my group of Soldiers.” He regarded the short man in front of him, “they are in an Inn not far from here, if you would like me to return to them. Or will I be escorted back to the Grey Tower?” Murdock had no preference in all honesty. Although he did have a thought, a bold one which he should have probably kept to himself but couldn’t resist from putting out there in case it worked. “Alternatively, if you have any suggestions for better places to browse wares in Hama Valon, then you could always be my supervised escort?” Perhaps it was a bit bold on his part but really, there was no harm in asking. The worst the man could do was say no and besides, he was out in Hama Valon himself so he might well have unfinished business. “I can even carry your bags- actually,” the tall man amended himself, “that is too close to arse kissing for me. Though if you did instruct me to carry your bags I suppose I would have no choice in the matter...” a toothy grin which didn’t meet his eyes could be seen for a moment (probably – the guy was rather short) before he gave way to a more serious expression.

[Prew]

A quick appraisal of the man raised more questions than provided answers. Although a foot taller than Fen, the man was slender, not the bulky muscle bound type that had plagued him in the past. Fen guessed the man to be a decade or so older than himself, not in itself unusual; the Tower drew all ages, especially among male channelers. Perhaps there was a connection between the removal of the taint and the sudden influx of male aspirants. Fen didn’t know nor did he care. Finally, he noticed the ring the man wore. In some cultures that signified marriage, though not in Altara. The Soldier had been looking at a necklace, perhaps he had a wife at the Tower.

“May the Light Illumine you as well, Soldier,” he replied to the man’s greeting. “And please, no need to ‘arse kiss’ as you put it. I am not here to reprimand you.” Actually, Fen rather enjoyed the fellow’s subservient attitude, for once the proverbial shoe… But no, he quickly dismissed that thought, too often had he found himself in a similar position and hated it. He would not sink to the level of his tormentors.

“My name is Fen, Fen Garlan. I can quite understand your desire to rid yourself of what, may I presume, you found to be annoying companions. A man of your years must bristle a bit to be treated as a child, which seems to be the way of things with the Novices and Soldiers here. I myself have felt the same.” He gave his companion a sly look, ascertaining if the man was in agreement. Thankfully the man had stepped back, easing the strain on Fen's neck from having to look up at the Soldier.

“You now have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You are? Perhaps you would care to join me for a mug or two of ale? We can certainly find another inn than the one your companions now frequent.”

[Chris]

Murdock might not be quite as worried as a young Soldier would be about being disciplined, but that didn’t mean he actively sought out trouble. He was quite glad this Dedicated wasn’t here to reprimand him, though he had assumed otherwise based on the initial greeting. Maybe that was how man outside of Far Madding greeted one another? It was clear even from his brief time out of his home city that the menfolk were given more authority and responsibility than those in Far Madding, so that had to change how they behaved.

The man introduced himself as Fen Garlan, which saved Murdock the trouble of trying to remember if he had seen this man before (he hadn’t), and what his name could be (no idea). Murdock couldn’t help the wary look that crossed his face as Dedicated Fen went on to presume, quite correctly, how he felt about his fellow Soldiers and his treatment at the Tower. Now, Murdock was not a fellow prone to complaints, a man knew his place in a respectable Far Madding home with five women, but he was certainly not used to being treated like a child, which worked for some of the Soldiers but was not appropriate for a man of his years. Fen’s admission about being able to relate to this could well be a ruse to find out more about what Murdock’s motivations were for being out on his own, but either way Murdock wasn’t going to lie and pretend he enjoyed being a Soldier. If it was used against him then so be it. “A number of the Soldiers and Novices here are children,” he said, “I can appreciate that the treatment is suitable for a number of trainees.” However, most certainly not for himself. He wasn’t asking to be treated like a special subject, he knew how discipline worked and giving unfair treatment was asking for trouble in the long run, but he wasn’t going to pretend it worked for him or that he approved of it. Thankfully Dedicated Fen didn’t use his distaste against him, instead offering to take him for a drink elsewhere.

This was not a bad idea, and Murdock knew it was in his best interests to accept. Keeping on the good side of a Dedicated would make things much easier for him going forwards, and refusing might well cut his trip short. This way he could have some ale and stay away from the other Soldiers, whilst not breaking Grey Tower rules (the slight intermission between supervisors could be overlooked, he hoped). With a brief smile Murdock gave a slight dip of his head. “A drink elsewhere sounds good to me,” he said. “My name’s Murdock, Murdock Mather.”

He felt into step as the Dedicated took him in the direction of what he presumed was a more suitable Inn away from his fellow Soldiers. He kept just a little bit behind, letting the senior rank do his senior thing as he would a captain of the guard back home. It was also practical of him because he had no idea where they were going, and his memory for where they had already been wasn’t very strong – after all this was their first foray into the city itself since his arrival, so he was rather new to the experience. “I can buy the first round,” he offered, “by way of thanks.” He might not be out and about exploring the city as he had expected but this was nice enough in and of itself, as long as the ale was passably acceptable for drinking that is. Even then, bad ale was an experience as well and it had been some time since the man had nursed a mug of the stuff.

[Prew]

It so happened Fen knew of an inn just a few streets over from the stalls and booths at which he had first spotted Murdock Mather. One visit to The Band of Brothers had been more than enough. The popular spot for those from the Tower, he had found it to be most discomforting. It was the Warders in particular that disturbed him. He always tried to give wide berth to gaidin and gaidar. It was said many could sense shadowspawn, if so, perhaps they could also recognize Darkfriends. Choosing discretion as the better part of valor, he assiduously avoided the Warder Yard or anywhere else he might encounter those of the fan cloak.

The Shadow only knew why he was doing this in the first place. Having spent the majority of his life as a social outcast he ought to be well used to not having friends, or even acquaintances that might join him over a drink. Yet his former roommate Adrian had resurfaced in him a desire long buried in his psyche, the need for companionship. He recognized in Murdock a man who also was isolated, though perhaps that was by choice. Too early to tell, he thought as he led the man through the crowded streets, most people stepping aside to allow a man with a sword pin on his collar to pass. Yes, too early to tell.

“Ah, here it is,” he announced and led Murdock through the doorway of an inn considerably less enticing than the Band of Brothers. The Wayward Waif’s common room appeared to not have been cleaned in a fortnight. The innkeeper, a slender man with thinning hair and a look of petulance, wiped his hands on his apron as the pair entered but offered no greeting. The room itself was almost empty for the time of day. A pair of rough looking men, perhaps merchant guards, sat at one table playing a game of Stones. A slatternly serving girl was placing mugs of ale on the table occupied by a disreputable looking woman and her equally suspicious consort. Other than those four the room was devoid of customers.

Leading Murdock to an unoccupied table, Fen signaled the innkeeper for two mugs of ale. It was obvious the man knew Fen and his usual order. Taking a seat, he motioned for his companion to sit as well.

“I realize this place is hardly up to the standards of respectable clientele, which is exactly why I choose it. I find here I am never bothered by folk from the Tower. It is a brief respite, if you will.” He paused trying to read Murdock’s expression. Would he agree? Or perhaps he found the place to be repellent.

As the serving girl placed two mugs in front of them, Fen lifted his and took a sip.

“At least the ale is good,” he grinned. “Now, may I ask, what brings you to the Grey Tower?”

OOC: Since I’ve read Murdock’s biography it is up to you in how much detail you care to write, if Murdock even wishes to share.

[Chris]

Murdock was not going to regret his new company, even in the face of what looked to be a rather unclean tavern. There was nothing familiar about this place, and Murdock thought he had a decent amount of experience of taverns from his rounds in Far Madding. They were all more reputable than this place, he was sure of that he stepped into ‘The Wayward Waif’. By the looks of things more than just the waif had gone waywards – the cleaning staff, for starters. Murdock tried not to pull a face and plaster a smile on instead, but it came out as a bit of a sickly grin instead. Oh well, a sickly grin would fit in just fine here.

At least Dedicated Fen appreciated that this was not necessarily the most reputable of establishments. In fact, his explanation made his choice of location make a lot more sense, but that didn’t mean Murdock had to necessarily enjoy his time here. It was still strange to Murdock to see so many men performing functions that were to him, women’s roles. Taverns were supposed to be run by portly women, usually wielding a ladle. They might have a stableboy but in Far Madding, the money a man earned was normally dictated by what his wife allowed him – even Murdock’s own career was dictated by what Giselle had wanted from him, and he had obeyed without much of a complaint. Such was the way of the Far Madding man.

When the ale arrived Murdock picked his glass up to check it for dirt, finding that it could be worse (though the rag used to wipe it could well have been black with dirt for all he knew). Although Murdock had agreed to pay for these, he felt it would be rude to not at least take a sip, so he imitated Fen and had to reluctantly admit that the ale could have been worse. “Better than no ale at all,” he said. The inevitable moment came where the Dedicated asked Murdock about why he was at the Grey Tower, and although it was a polite way of making conversation it wasn’t something he was exactly keen to share with anyone. Murdock had no interest in where anyone else came from, their past was their own and it was their business to tell, or not. “I came to learn to channel,” he replied matter of factly, though as he took up his ale for another drink he knew this was far from sufficient a response. After the Dedicated had been so kind as to agree to be his supervised escort, he ought to offer at least a little something more.

Sigh. Murdock could not wait for the day he didn’t have to answer to anyone else, and he could do as he pleased.

“In Far Madding, the Guardian prevents you from sensing Saidin. I sparked outside the city walls a few months ago, and the Black Tower were on a recruitment trip. They took me there. A few months of that and I decided the Grey Tower was more appropriate for completing my training.” A slight understatement, accompanied by that knowledge of Saidin being within arm’s reach should he so choose – a side effect of his block. Giselle was never far from his mind and because of that neither was Saidin, but when it returned to his consciousness it made him realise how long it was since he last thought of Giselle. A sobering thought every time, and no amount of ale would help with that.

Murdock knew he was twisting his wedding band around his finger. Its presence asked more questions than he cared to respond to but Light, he was never going to take the ring off. A glance at Dedicated Fen and the Soldier offered a brief “I still have family in Far Madding.” That none of this family included his wife was not explicitly stated, for the fellow had no interest in bringing up Giselle with anyone outside of his teachers, but he hoped that would be sufficient enough to sate the Dedicated’s curiosity. “Have you been at the Grey Tower for long? Before I left Far Madding I had no idea there even was a Grey Tower. Even the Black Tower was a rumour, at least before the men in black coats visited.” Of course the White Tower stood eternal in the minds of those who lived in a city state protected by a powerful ter’angreal.

[Prew]

How a person responded to unfamiliar, and in this case, disagreeable surroundings could give clues as to their makeup, or so Fen thought as he observed the Soldier’s reaction to the seediness of the common room. No doubt the sleeping rooms were even worse, as if he would ever stay in such flea-infested accommodations. Though Murdock appeared to grimace slightly and did check the cleanliness of his glass, the man offered no complaints. That was encouraging indeed.

As Fen listened to Murdock’s mention of the Guardian a spark of memory, a description in a book he had read. He had not believed it to be real, but then, at that time he had little interest in the subject of channeling, not until the day he discovered he could touch the One Power. When the Soldier had finished his tale Fen was relieved to have not been asked about his own background. Although he had a story carefully crafted, he tired of relating it. Instead, the man had asked about his time at the Grey Tower.

“Oh, I’ve been here a few months, not sure how long really. You sort of lose track of time here,” pausing to take another drink, he glanced surreptitiously towards the couple two tables over.

“See those two? Darkfriends, I suspect. Perhaps we should keep an eye on them, eh?” Fen leaned back in his seat and smiled knowingly, as if he were skilled in identifying those sworn to the Shadow.

[Chris]

Murdock hadn’t been expecting a grand story, though it did occur to him that he had been at the Black Tower a few months himself, but he was nowhere near ready for being given the sword pin. Was he not working hard enough, or had the slight inconvenience of a dead wife held him back? Maybe there was room to add more classes to his timetable somewhere. Or get some more training on Saidin in his own time, the unsupervised variety. It was easier to channel the more you did it, so it made sense to him to try it out, as long as he was careful and all of that. If he got caught, he got caught. If he didn’t, he was a little better with Saidin.

He followed Fen’s glance to the couple seated a couple of tables away, briefly and only to check they were in fact still there. Then he was back to nursing his ale in his hands and giving the Dedicated a bemused look. This tavern wasn’t particularly clean, no, and he was pretty sure that he would stick to the floor were he to stand in one place for long enough, but he didn’t think this was a den for Darkfriends. Or was it? What did he know? Only if it was, then why would Fen make a point of staying here to drink? And also (the man was clearly trying to puzzle this out as he squinted at his ale suspiciously), if Fen was correct, how did he know? Was it sight alone that told him, or something with the Power? He was so blasé about the whole thing, it set Murdock’s teeth on edge.

It was difficult for Murdock to simply nod and smile in agreement. The couple didn’t look like Darkfriends to him, just a woman and her, er, male friend passing the time. It made sense to Murdock that in order to denounce someone as being a Darkfriend you needed some proof, rather than a hunch, though if it was Saidin giving Fen the answers then that would probably suffice. “How do you know?” he had to ask, keeping his voice low and pointedly not looking at the couple. “I’ve known my share of honest, Light-fearing folk who curse like sailors and need a wash behind the ears.” The man gave Fen a bemused look directly now, rather than peering at his ale (which had not seen another sip since Fen’s casual declaration of Darkfriends two tables over). By the Light, he wasn’t sitting with a fellow who scrawled the Dragon’s Fang on every other door was he?

“All I’m saying is if you have proof then you should do something about it instead of sitting here,” he challenged the Dedicated, “or if you don’t, tell me why you suspect.” Because the Light knew Murdock had enough swill to deal with on a daily basis without adding keeping an eye on Darkfriends to his list of things. Needless to say the Soldier was not quite so relaxed as he was moments ago – not that he had been particularly languid then. He didn’t want to believe Fen, he wanted to think the Dedicated was simply paranoid and trying to stir up trouble, but then why was he smiling like that? He wouldn’t look like that if he didn’t know something, and he was a Dedicated. Murdock was probably not supposed to question his superiors even when they were out drinking ale from mucky mugs, but this situation was entirely new to him and left a very bad taste in his mouth.

[Prew]

“Proof? That is exactly why I sit and do nothing,” Fen leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “One can’t exactly accuse ‘honest, Light-fearing folk’, as you put it, without some sort of proof, now can they? That is, unless they are Whitecloaks. The Light only knows the Children show such no compunction. And the ‘proof’ they drag out with needles and knives…” he shook his head in disgust.

“Now, my friend, you have surely heard of such things as foretelling or sniffing,” he raised a quizzical eyebrow before continuing, “Would it be so hard to believe that one such as myself might have a similar ability; the ability to sense Darkfriends? But that alone cannot stand as proof against them, can it? So I wait, and I watch.”

Fen waited to see if Murdock was buying the lie. Perhaps he would just think him paranoid, seeing Darkfriends and Shadowspawn in every corner. However, if the man showed interest, Fen could proceed to his next subject. Oh, he had to be delicate in his handling of this, a misstep and the accusing finger would suddenly be pointed in his direction. But he was sure it would please his Mistress if he could plant at least a shadow of doubt (he almost laughed at his own pun) in Murdock’s mind. Tarmon Gai'don was coming, but battles were often won by subterfuge before they were even fought.