Swamped

Can your other dad read? Probably Kroskan if you didn't have any books with the language you speak in them, right? We could write a letter to him, if so.

The first thing that comes to mind is that you're hungry. You thought Tom First was supposed to come by the infirmary with breakfast, but now that you think about it, you can't remember that happening. You decide to head over to the cafeteria and see what's going on.

When you arrive, you find there's a long line of hungry and annoyed knights. You can also hear some noises coming from the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Tom First comes out, looking annoyed.

"Sorry folks. Oven's having troubles. I gotta have a talk with the idiot who used it at midnight. You'll have to settle for raw swampleaf this morning, maybe at dinner too. And I can't serve it right now. Need a few volunteers to handle portions... right, got it. Josh Second, Black, oh and Burgundy. All of you in the kitchen! I'll be back in twenty-five or so."

The line gradually starts moving. It picks up after a while, but it's still a good ten minutes before you have your plate, which Burgundy hands to you with an apologetic smile. You're not sure what you even want to say to her.

Somehow, the intact swampleaf is even more flavorless than the usual mush. You're also still having trouble adjusting to your one hand; it takes you a few attempts before you successfully lift the fork to your mouth. You can't help but draw a few looks, some sympathetic, others dismissive. You try to ignore it all and just eat your breakfast.

You're going to have to think about what kind of job you can even do in this state. You know they said you could leave, but in all honesty, you can't see yourself doing too well back on the farm either.

The farm. Damn, that's right. You're going to have to tell Henry about your arm. You suppose it would be best to write him a letter. No doubt he'll worry about you like he always does, but you have to say something. He's the only family you've got left, after all.

But you might have trouble writing, and you're not sure anyone else here speaks Kroskan. Then again, if someone does, they've probably talked to the recordkeeper about it, so you decide to pay him a visit. Maybe you can talk to him about possible job opportunities, too.

So you head over to the archives, only to hear some loud yelling. Cautiously, you open the door and see Tom First.

"The oven's not supposed to go on that late at night! It needs downtime so it doesn't build up too much gas. Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to fix it?"

"I do apologize. I needed to dry the documents somehow, I considered salt but I knew that was a rare commodity..."

"I can't believe I'm going to have to start locking the oven up at night now. If I even get it fixed. Ugh, we might need to have to order in some supplies... and what if there's another rain, this is awful."

It sounds like Tom First is having an argument with the recordkeeper. You wonder if you should stick around. Is there anything you can really do here?

You may as well. It's not like you've got anywhere else to be.

Ehhh, yeah turn around. Go visit Burgundy and tell her you forgive her!!!

John Medic might have some paper supplies, you don't have to get in the middle of an argument right now

You decide that it's best if you just leave. You slip back out quietly and shut the door. Hopefully nobody heard you.

It occurs to you that John Medic might have some writing supplies, so you head back to the infirmary to ask.

He does, in fact, have some paper and pens. He asks if you'd like some help with the actual writing.

"Well, it's got to be in Kroskan. Do you know the language?"

John shakes his head.

"No. John Recordkeeper's good with languages, though. Or if he's busy, we do have some knights from Kroska, but I can't remember who off the top of my head. Ask around and I'm sure you can find someone, though."

You thank him and decide to skip going back to the archives. The recordkeeper probably has enough to worry about right now.

You start making your way to the lounge to see if there's anyone you can ask about Kroskan knights. On your way there, though, you find Burgundy stepping out of the kitchen, and you feel like you ought to reassure her that you don't hold a grudge.

"Um. Hello, ah, Sergeant Burgundy," you begin.

"Just Burgundy now. Got demoted, I thought you would have heard."

You did, but it doesn't seem important.

"Well, I just wanted you to know, for what it's worth... I'm not mad at you. I do wish things hadn't happened the way they did yesterday, but I forgive you for your part in it."

She lets out a sigh.

"Thanks. Maybe one day I'll be able to forgive myself." She glances at the paper and pen in your hand. "You, ah, are you going to be able to write that by yourself?"

"Not sure. I was going to get someone to help, but I need to write it in Kroskan. I need to tell my... well, one of my fathers about my injury."

As you say the words, you realize how odd your uncertainty must sound. Ever since you were young, you knew your parents as Father and Henry.

"Ah. Family matters. You get on well with your family, Marshall?"

"Well. I have no doubt they both love me. But one of them disappeared a few years ago, and the other, the one I'm writing to... he's taken it hard, and we've always had trouble talking to each other. Still, he needs to know what happened to me."

You suddenly realize this is probably a sensitive subject to talk about with Burgundy, considering her role in it.

"Well, I've had a lot of experience writing difficult letters to relatives," she says. "If you feel like you need help with the words, let me know. Not sure how it'll translate to Kroskan, but I'm sure there's a way to get the sentiment across."

"You don't know Kroskan, I suppose."

"Only a bit. Mother's from there, but never really tried to teach me. I can point you to some Kroskan knights, though. Just give me a moment to think about who they were, again."

Grey is, as is Mary Baker, aaaand someone from a crew we haven't met yet

Tom Ninth

And who could forget good old Dick Crosscan (changed his last name for political purposes)

"Let's see. There's Grey on Pest Control, there's Mary Thirteenth, who I believe was helping you train... and that schedule's been completely thrown off because of your injuries, hasn't it." She looks at you apologetically for a moment before changing the subject back to knights you could ask. "Tom Ninth, too, though he's still a bit shaken from his time as a prisoner... oh, I think one of our two missing might be Kroskan, but they'll definitely still need downtime when they get back. May not be the best to ask."

You thank her, and once again reassure her that you don't hold any grudge. Then you head off to find someone to help you with the letter.

Of the people she named, you probably know Mary Baker the best. You could try asking one of the others, but it would feel more awkward considering the personal nature of the request.

You check the main schedule and see that Mary has a free period in about an hour. You'll probably be able to find her in the lounge at that point.

So how will you pass the time?

Go the lounge anyway! See who else is there?

Learn to juggle one-handed

You figure you might as well wait in the lounge. You head over there and decide to see who's around.

There's no one you recognize. One young knight over in the corner is juggling. There's two knights talking at the main table, evidently paying no attention to the juggler.

You head over to the juggler. He looks like he's in need of an audience, and you don't see a reason to interrupt a conversation anyhow.

As you approach, he smiles, flings the balls high into the air before catching them, then hands you two of them.

"Why don't you give it a try," he says.

"I've only got the one arm."

"Two with one hand is doable. Tricky, but why not see how it goes?"

Well, you weren't doing much of anything anyhow, and it'll give you a sense of if you can still throw. You toss one into the air, then attempt to toss the second one just as the first falls back into your hand.

That's the theory, anyhow. In practice, the first ball lands on the floor while you're still gripping the second.

"Good control on that throw, but you're going to need some practice reading the downward arc." He hands his third ball to you. "Give it another try while I grab that one."

You attempt it again, this time focusing on just where the ball is going to land. You manage to catch it, but not before you drop the one in hand, just as your companion picks up the other.

He grabs the second ball and looks up with a smile.

"Better! I've seen worse first attempts with two hands. We might get somewhere with this."

"Maybe," you mutter. "Er, if you don't mind, may I ask your name?"

"Why, you can ask whatever you wish! Whether I answer, though, that's another matter."

You can't help but chuckle a little.

"So what is your name?"

"Nathan Grinnes. Yes, that's really my family name. They were entertainers. I trained with them for a few years, but then I heard the call of the swamp and I had to answer." He takes the one ball you're still holding and starts juggling again. "Still, there's plenty of spirits that need raising around here, so I try to help out where I can. Sometimes, in the face of tragedy, we need to be reminded that there's joy in the world."

You've still got some time. You consider asking Nathan some more questions.

Ask if Nathan knows how to play Swamprats

Can you do jokes

"So do you do any other sort of entertainment besides juggling? Say, telling jokes?"

Nathan's smile shrinks a bit.

"Not any more. Used to, but I was careless with them, you see. Let's just say if you'd met me a few years ago, I might have asked you to give me a hand."

You wince at that one.

"Learned my lesson now. Not easily, but after enough well-deserved smacks it finally started to sink in. Ah, but you asked if I've got any other tricks, didn't you? Now, it so happens I do. Just, well, don't have the right gear with me, it's back in my room. But perhaps I can show you another time."

"That does sound fun. I think I'd like to see that."

"Good, good. But for now, I'm a juggler." He starts tossing the balls around again. "At least until my next shift starts, then I'm a lookout."

You suddenly notice a deck of cards on his belt.

"You've got cards," you say. "Do you happen to play Swamprats?"

"No, well, not regularly. I've lost to the Black Queen more than a few times, but then, we all have."

It takes you a moment to realize he means Lisa.

"No, these cards are special. Not for playing, that'd be cheating. They're for a trick I've been practicing, but I haven't got it down yet."

"Well, you can try it on me."

"Fair enough."

Nathan pulls out the cards and shuffles them, then hands the deck to you.

"Take any card in there. Remember what it is, but don't show it to me."

You decide to make this easy on yourself and take the top card. It's the Eight of Blades.

"Now, you remember that card? Good. Put it back in the deck and shuffle it and then give the cards back to me."

You do what he says. It's a bit hard with one hand but you manage as best you can.

He looks at the cards for a while, a fierce look of concentration on his face. Finally, he speaks up.

"Was your card the Ten of Leaves?"

"No."

He shrugs and puts the cards away.

"And you see, that's the part I haven't gotten just yet. Tricky, isn't it?"

You chuckle a little.

"Well, you're good at making me smile, at least. I appreciate it."

"Thank you! It means a lot to an artist to have their work acknowledged. I am delighted to have been of service."

You think on whether you have anything else in particular to say to him. You expect he'll leave for his shift soon, and you may not see him again for a while.

Hey, uh... keep a lookout for my hand, huh?

Ask if you think you'd be capable of working lookout, but also how much downtime you have when you're actually on duty.

"Do you use both hands a lot as a lookout, by any chance?"

"Well, most of the time, no. Thing is, one of the things you're looking out for is Marshguards sneaking in. And, of course, that means they like to surprise the lookouts before we can call a warning. And I don't mean surprising us with a birthday cake."

"Does that happen often?"

"Depends where you're posted. Near the base, you won't see a lot of action unless they're out in full force. That hasn't happened in years, though. But towards the edge of our territory, you see them more often. Of course, where they put you depends on seniority more than anything... the longer you're on the job, the more dangerous the assignment. Long-term, it might not work out so well for you. Depends on how well you fight one-handed, I suppose."

You hadn't really given much thought to trying it. You do still have your throwing arm, you suppose.

"Anyhow, the big thing about lookout duty is, it's boring. Most of the time you won't see anything at all. But, because there could be a Marshguard or a troublesome beast slipping by, you can't actually take a break. It would be a different story if there were two of you, but apparently we don't have enough knights to do that." He shrugs. "Anyhow, it's about time for my shift. Nice meeting you... oh, I don't think you gave me your name."

"Marshall."

"Right. Knew I'd heard it, lots of folk talking about you since yesterday. But I couldn't put the name to a face before. Anyhow, I'll catch you some other time, it's been a pleasure."

He leaves. A moment later, the two knights in conversation realize he's going, and run out after him. They must have their own shifts.

It's another few minutes before Mary walks in, along with another knight who looks half-asleep, and promptly sits down at the center table to find the other half. Mary spots you and waves.

"Marshall! Heard about what happened, I'm so sorry, are you all right..."

"I'm, well, I'm managing. Need some help, though."

You explain your problem, and that you were told Mary was from Kroska.

"Yeah, I can write. But you don't actually know how to speak Kroskan?"

"I can read it, but I read it as Common. Probably make all sorts of errors that way, but Henry would read it the same way."

"A bit odd, but I think I can manage. So, what do you want to tell him about, aside from the arm?"

Tell him about the lack of progress with finding your father.

Tell him about the things you learned in training classes like how to identify food and not get lost and swim

Dear Henry,

In my last letter, I told you that I planned to join the Bogknights, in hopes of finding Father.

I should begin with the bad news. I lost my arm to a very dangerous swamp creature. It was my own carelessness as much as anything, but nevertheless I was following an order and the officer who gave it has been punished. Though to be honest, I'm not really mad at her about it.

That happened the day before I write this. I haven't gotten used to working with one hand yet, so I'll let you know about that the next time I write.

As for Father, I haven't found anything out. There is a swamp beast rider among the enemy forces, which may have something to do with his disappearance, but that's only a guess. Don't worry, though - I don't plan on doing anything reckless in my search, though I'm sure you're already thinking something along the lines of "no more reckless than losing the other arm" when you read that.

It's not all bad news, though. I've learned some useful things since I came here; skills like swimming, how to throw a skyslicer, navigating the swamp and finding food. Some of them may not be as useful now that I've lost my arm, but I'm told I don't have to leave because of it. I'm thinking I'll stay and try to find something helpful I can do here.

I've also made some new friends among the knights here. One of them is helping me write this letter - as I said, I'm not used to working with just one arm.

I just want to let you know what's happened, and despite everything I'm doing all right for myself. I hope all is well with you at the farm. I miss you, and I'll come back to visit when I next have a chance.

With love,
Marshall

Mary looks up at you after it's all written down.

"I'll admit, the bit about your father has me curious," she says. "But I won't insist that you tell me anything if you don't want to. You're happy with it?"

"I think so. Thanks for the help."

"It's no problem. You seem to be holding up well, considering. So, with that taken care of, is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"

Might as well talk about your father. Who knows, maybe Mary's heard something useful.

Yeah! There shouldn't be anything wrong with letter people know about your father, that way you have more people who might be able to tell you something!

Really, there's only one thing on your mind at the moment.

"I don't mind telling you about my father."

You explain about his studies, about how he was so intrigued by this swamp. How he thought there was some kind of treasure here, though he wasn't the adventurous sort so he never really went looking.

But then the swamp beast appeared that one night, and the next thing you knew, your father was gone.

At Mary's request, you describe it in detail. Twice the size of a human, with bright emerald scales that made it stand out even in the darkness. Sharp claws on all four of its legs, and a long tail that dragged behind it. The blackest eyes you'd ever seen.

"Just how close did you get?"

"Not that close, but it turned to face me for a moment before wandering off. I couldn't focus on anything beyond its eyes."

"Didn't get a good look at its mouth, did you?"

"It looked like a sort of beak, I suppose? But broader, and rounder."

"That's the Rider's beast, all right. Ha, maybe you'd have had better luck if you'd joined the Marshguards."

"They didn't have a recruiter."

"Well, of course not. They're exiles. They can't leave here, and the only people willing to do business with them are the less reputable merchants. But it's doubtful you'd have found much out, anyhow. They keep to themselves, and Rider's even more secretive than most... well, all their top officers are, really. But even among that group, Rider stands out."

You wonder about that. You've had this sense that the Marshguards were after you... could that have something to do with your father?

But you're not sure if you want to tell anyone about that part just yet. You're not even sure what you can do.

From all you've heard, the Rider is a fearsome warrior. You're a rookie who's barely learned anything about fighting, and what little you did know relied a lot on having two arms. Even if you did confront the Rider, what would you do if you had to fight?

And yet, you can't help but feel there's got to be something more you can do than just sit around and hope for new information to come in. But what?