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Chapter 5 (SFW) - ENV Series - Book 1 (An Inward Truth)
THE ENVIRON SERIES
Book 1 - An Inward Truth
STATUS: reviewing needed, expect grammar errors and some typos
Genre: fiction, fantasy, medieval, romance (+18)
‘People!’
The table of its foodstuff and goblets rattled as soon as the voice boomed across the sleepy audience members of Environ personnel. The scrunched up and fatigued faces of men and the messy untied hair of women accompanied in unison the stuffy atmosphere of the Environ Dining Hall. A gathering place not limited to business meetings between wealthy merchants and the Environ, the Dining Hall was the hallmark of the company’s history as well as its distinguished culture and livery. However, it was also a place for the needy and sick. Hugging the walls a myriad of stretchers, mattresses and disassembled wooden bed frames marked the importance of the service they provide rather than the prestige.
Today, there was not to be any feast; the sun was down and out. Only torches and candles lit what remained of the darkened Paris streets.
A rudely awaken Englishman roared in disgust at the burst of noise, ‘Oi! Who disturbs one’s sleep?’
Ingvar’s heavy footsteps echoed throughout the institution. Suddenly, the others realising what was going on nearly panicked.
‘Roland!’ Said another personnel.
Ingvar gave the sleepy Roland a serious yet doddering look, ‘I did not come all the way here to be treated with disrespect.’
Roland was equally rude to the leader of the Environ when he twitched his body to sneeze. It was just as loud as Ingvar’s grand entrance.
‘Oh shut up.’ A certain female Environ mercenary entered.
‘Roxane!’ Roland cried.
‘New mission, new day? I don’t see the sun rising.’ One mercenary said to another but was visibly inebriated.
‘What?’
Liam Dawson trailed the wizard by several yards behind, limping and dragging his left leg towards the long dining table indicating to the company members that if Liam was afflicted with something of visible effect, a potion experiment had been successful. But upon closer inspection it was clear that Liam only managed to fall down the same flight of stairs he has fallen since becoming Ingvar’s apprentice. It had been several months since the stairs between the dining hall to the wizard’s secret apothecary been repaired, so it was no surprised that clumsy men like Ingvar or Liam would slip from them.
Ingvar boomed at the disorganised cohort of incompetent mercenaries, ‘I have done it! We will be going to Bordeaux tomorrow!’
Liam slammed his tired arms against the side of the table, relieving the pressure from his sour leg, but this also required Ingvar to make an inch of space for him which to the wizard constituted a fine of two French livres.
‘Master!’ Liam began, ‘you told us yesterday that will be going next month.’
One of the mercenaries, a certain Alondra shook her head in disbelief of the Swede Master. Next, one of the more cheerful men, a wealthy Venetian merchant whom according to multiple accounts owned nearly a quarter of all Venetian ships, Callixtus, gave reassurance to the Castilian that she needed to be more forgiving to an old man like Ingvar which she dismissed wholeheartedly.
‘Thank you very much for correcting me, Liam.’ Ingvar acknowledge.
‘You are most welcome, Master.’ Liam replied.
‘Now sit down!’
The silence finally settled, leaving only the howling wind and the noise of chirping crickets.
The wizard then began. He switched eye contact between the walls, the windows, the human personnel, the humanoid personnel and then Liam. ‘I have finally created the perfect concoction as part of our fight against the English forces in Bordeaux. This is the very potion that will put the garrison to sleep. We at the Environ do not believe in violence, so by mixing the Roman drainage system with this liquid.’
However, a certain humanoid python stood to his feet. He was visibly unhappy, this was the same announcement they had heard from yesterday and the week before. ‘Master Ingvar,’ he began raising his snake voice, ‘The Roman drainage system leads into the Garonne River. If your concoction goes into the system, every single inhabitant will be put to sleep and there is no guarantee they’d wake up!’
‘Iqbal Nayak!’ Ingvar snapped at the snake. He immediately went on the defensive, ‘Have I not sent your friend Ceallaigh to retrieve dandelions for me? According to my alchemical books, as well as Hildegard von Bingen’s work on phlegm and saliva, I can isolate the potions into a confined area around the English garrison regardless of the flow of liquids downhill and—’
The snake did not attempt to muffle his groans, for Ingvar was deaf enough to not notice the scoff on Iqbal. He did not dislike the wizard, but he was amongst the growing faction of people whom wanted him to retire and let one of them become the new leader. Amongst these distinguished members at the dining table included Callixtus and a certain Hovhannes, a priest from one of the Oriental Churches. These men had proven their leadership skills, though one used his wealth and influence, and his armada of cargo ships, the other his moral guidance and commitment to the Environ’s once more charitable causes which he felt had deviated too much.
Callixtus stood up to speak, ‘We will not be able to commence the operation tomorrow, my Master. We can, however, start within the next month or two. I have already procured the funds to be shipped to Scotland from Venice. The Scottish expeditionary force will be paid handsomely to each foot soldier as requested by his majesty, King David.’
Ingvar refocused his attention towards Callixtus, ‘Sir Callixtus,’ he then raised his wooden staff, placing it in between his eye and the merchant, ‘remember the time I attended your daughter’s bat mitzvah? You told me to take the overland route, and I listened. I cut through the Alps like Hannibal and met you at Aquileia. Can’t you send your money caravans across the—’
‘My Master that is not possible. It will be a target for bandits.’
Iqbal interrupted everyone again. His arms pressed against the table, sinking his claws into the wood and snapped at everyone, but more so directed at Ingvar, ‘Quiet, everyone! I will set a date, 30th of April; that’s a Monday. Can everyone agree?’
There was a stunned silence amongst the human and humanoid personnel. As the echoes died down across the entire room, the exasperated expressions from people became more apparent. Then Roland, with a burst of approval, raised his goblet in a toast to the Indian python, though his expression was anything but sarcastic and a method to full the wizard, ‘I agree, we should set that as a date.’
‘You have my thanks!’ Iqbal said also raising his goblet.
It looked rehearsed, but Roxane was next. This was followed by Hovhannes, then Callixtus and finally, Liam, but he had no goblet so he raised Ingvar’s vial which he had pocketed in a loosely worn bandolier.
‘Master Ingvar! We will gather at Bordeaux on the thirtieth!’
Ingvar felt a sudden gush of blood flow away from his brain and into his cold heart. The warmth was overwhelming, it took his mind back decades, possibly even to his childhood. For Ingvar Evanssen, the sound of universal acclaim to a speech was what he lived to cultivate as a pillar of his philanthropic existence. The appraisal detoxified every bit of tension that was coursing through his body, culminating in him raising his own staff into the air to hollow cheers of the cohort, only for him to lose balance. Frailty was not his friend, and will never be anyone’s friend. Liam, despite the ache in his leg, probably a twisted ligament of some sort, came to the rescue and quickly grabbed the Grand Master before what would have been a fatal fall.
The old man was held back into place, balanced by his waist thanks to Liam’s boney arms which pressed into Ingvar’s equally boney hips.
‘We will go to Bordeaux on 30th August!’ Ingvar celebrated.
‘April!’ Corrected Iqbal.
‘I was testing your attention!’ Ingvar remarked. ‘Where was I? Ahh, yes. Please, I want the mappers amongst you to draw up a plan of action. In addition, I would like—no, wait—I DEMAND that my concoction be used in the process. I want to see those English troops sleep.’
Iqbal was about to raise his hand and protest against the wizard, but an arm from Callixtus quickly subdued him. The Venetian merchant then said, ‘Master Ingvar, we will adhere to your wise words. In the meantime, John and I will act in accordance to your desire to draw up a plan.’
Hovhannes placed down his goblet, then rested his palms against the table, the sleeves of his brownish, patchworked monk robe covering half of a clean plate and some wooden utensils, ‘I will draw up the plans. And yes, I will make sure that this mission be precluded if your concoction does not see usage.’
‘Iqbal!’ Roland called to the snake.
Iqbal Nayak was a witty being in his humanoid form, but stealthy if he was in his beast form. For now, he stood out like a sore thumb in the Environ. He was a harsh critic of the wizard but was also amongst the most loyal. Iqbal criticised him because he deeply cared. He preferred the ire from his peers than living in meaningless dogmatism for siding with those who made up a majority opinion. His was always very often the third-way.
‘Iqbal,’ Roland called out for a second time, as the rest of the Environ personnel exited the dining hall muttering and complaining to each other. With the two alone, the snake had no choice but respond to the human with reluctance.
‘Yes?’ Iqbal gave an emotionless response as he ogled Roland’s Anglo-style moustache.
‘You and your best mate Ceallaigh just can't let go of Ingvar it seems.’
‘But did I not criticise him vehemently?’
‘You criticise him because you care, and I do not blame you for that.’
Iqbal shook his head and raised his shoulders proclaiming innocence. ‘No, that is false. I am with you in his—you know.’
Roland was not angry nor frustrated, and he maintained a calm voice, ‘You struggle to say: dismiss. I believe there is much to admire from that filial piety in you.’ The English suddenly raised his voice, ‘but it is midnight, and by criticising him you only eat into our sleeping times. You may be a snake and need not much sleep, but we are human.’
Replete with intelligence, the cunning Iqbal had the like-mindedness of his one of his closest friends, Ceallaigh. Their profound thoughts and ideals synced with a fast grasp for all kinds of books both scientific and philosophical, while also relishing the diverse oral cultures throughout the broken continent. Unlike Ceallaigh (or Roland for that matter), Iqbal was talkative. Suffice to say his choice of words often led to extended periods of long-dragged filibustering. In some instances, he shifted through topics from one point to the sacrilege of another. He might purposefully attack his opponents with sardonic, satirical phrases that either disgusted people or send them to hawkish laughter. Otherwise, the python’s gregarious and consoling spirit was medicine to Environ’s inner circle. He held no popular opinion, but he held hope.
The spring air temperatures dipped as a gust of wind blew into their faces. Roland shrugged. ‘See you tomorrow at the living quarters. John will lead and adjudicate the session. I shall pay you a drink if you could also somehow distract Ingvar from ever attending that meeting.’
Iqbal twitched his eyebrows. It was disrespectful, but he liked the idea, ‘I will keep Ingvar in his chamber.’
‘Thank you, friend.’
(1941 words)
Appearances:
- Humans: Alondra, Callixtus, Ceallaigh (mentioned), Hovhannes (aka John), Ingvar, Liam, Roxane
- Humanoids: Iqbal
Book 1 - An Inward Truth
STATUS: reviewing needed, expect grammar errors and some typos
Genre: fiction, fantasy, medieval, romance (+18)
Previous chapter: IRAE
CHAPTER FIVE – RHETORICA
Next chapter: GRATIAE‘People!’
The table of its foodstuff and goblets rattled as soon as the voice boomed across the sleepy audience members of Environ personnel. The scrunched up and fatigued faces of men and the messy untied hair of women accompanied in unison the stuffy atmosphere of the Environ Dining Hall. A gathering place not limited to business meetings between wealthy merchants and the Environ, the Dining Hall was the hallmark of the company’s history as well as its distinguished culture and livery. However, it was also a place for the needy and sick. Hugging the walls a myriad of stretchers, mattresses and disassembled wooden bed frames marked the importance of the service they provide rather than the prestige.
Today, there was not to be any feast; the sun was down and out. Only torches and candles lit what remained of the darkened Paris streets.
A rudely awaken Englishman roared in disgust at the burst of noise, ‘Oi! Who disturbs one’s sleep?’
Ingvar’s heavy footsteps echoed throughout the institution. Suddenly, the others realising what was going on nearly panicked.
‘Roland!’ Said another personnel.
Ingvar gave the sleepy Roland a serious yet doddering look, ‘I did not come all the way here to be treated with disrespect.’
Roland was equally rude to the leader of the Environ when he twitched his body to sneeze. It was just as loud as Ingvar’s grand entrance.
‘Oh shut up.’ A certain female Environ mercenary entered.
‘Roxane!’ Roland cried.
‘New mission, new day? I don’t see the sun rising.’ One mercenary said to another but was visibly inebriated.
‘What?’
Liam Dawson trailed the wizard by several yards behind, limping and dragging his left leg towards the long dining table indicating to the company members that if Liam was afflicted with something of visible effect, a potion experiment had been successful. But upon closer inspection it was clear that Liam only managed to fall down the same flight of stairs he has fallen since becoming Ingvar’s apprentice. It had been several months since the stairs between the dining hall to the wizard’s secret apothecary been repaired, so it was no surprised that clumsy men like Ingvar or Liam would slip from them.
Ingvar boomed at the disorganised cohort of incompetent mercenaries, ‘I have done it! We will be going to Bordeaux tomorrow!’
Liam slammed his tired arms against the side of the table, relieving the pressure from his sour leg, but this also required Ingvar to make an inch of space for him which to the wizard constituted a fine of two French livres.
‘Master!’ Liam began, ‘you told us yesterday that will be going next month.’
One of the mercenaries, a certain Alondra shook her head in disbelief of the Swede Master. Next, one of the more cheerful men, a wealthy Venetian merchant whom according to multiple accounts owned nearly a quarter of all Venetian ships, Callixtus, gave reassurance to the Castilian that she needed to be more forgiving to an old man like Ingvar which she dismissed wholeheartedly.
‘Thank you very much for correcting me, Liam.’ Ingvar acknowledge.
‘You are most welcome, Master.’ Liam replied.
‘Now sit down!’
The silence finally settled, leaving only the howling wind and the noise of chirping crickets.
The wizard then began. He switched eye contact between the walls, the windows, the human personnel, the humanoid personnel and then Liam. ‘I have finally created the perfect concoction as part of our fight against the English forces in Bordeaux. This is the very potion that will put the garrison to sleep. We at the Environ do not believe in violence, so by mixing the Roman drainage system with this liquid.’
However, a certain humanoid python stood to his feet. He was visibly unhappy, this was the same announcement they had heard from yesterday and the week before. ‘Master Ingvar,’ he began raising his snake voice, ‘The Roman drainage system leads into the Garonne River. If your concoction goes into the system, every single inhabitant will be put to sleep and there is no guarantee they’d wake up!’
‘Iqbal Nayak!’ Ingvar snapped at the snake. He immediately went on the defensive, ‘Have I not sent your friend Ceallaigh to retrieve dandelions for me? According to my alchemical books, as well as Hildegard von Bingen’s work on phlegm and saliva, I can isolate the potions into a confined area around the English garrison regardless of the flow of liquids downhill and—’
The snake did not attempt to muffle his groans, for Ingvar was deaf enough to not notice the scoff on Iqbal. He did not dislike the wizard, but he was amongst the growing faction of people whom wanted him to retire and let one of them become the new leader. Amongst these distinguished members at the dining table included Callixtus and a certain Hovhannes, a priest from one of the Oriental Churches. These men had proven their leadership skills, though one used his wealth and influence, and his armada of cargo ships, the other his moral guidance and commitment to the Environ’s once more charitable causes which he felt had deviated too much.
Callixtus stood up to speak, ‘We will not be able to commence the operation tomorrow, my Master. We can, however, start within the next month or two. I have already procured the funds to be shipped to Scotland from Venice. The Scottish expeditionary force will be paid handsomely to each foot soldier as requested by his majesty, King David.’
Ingvar refocused his attention towards Callixtus, ‘Sir Callixtus,’ he then raised his wooden staff, placing it in between his eye and the merchant, ‘remember the time I attended your daughter’s bat mitzvah? You told me to take the overland route, and I listened. I cut through the Alps like Hannibal and met you at Aquileia. Can’t you send your money caravans across the—’
‘My Master that is not possible. It will be a target for bandits.’
Iqbal interrupted everyone again. His arms pressed against the table, sinking his claws into the wood and snapped at everyone, but more so directed at Ingvar, ‘Quiet, everyone! I will set a date, 30th of April; that’s a Monday. Can everyone agree?’
There was a stunned silence amongst the human and humanoid personnel. As the echoes died down across the entire room, the exasperated expressions from people became more apparent. Then Roland, with a burst of approval, raised his goblet in a toast to the Indian python, though his expression was anything but sarcastic and a method to full the wizard, ‘I agree, we should set that as a date.’
‘You have my thanks!’ Iqbal said also raising his goblet.
It looked rehearsed, but Roxane was next. This was followed by Hovhannes, then Callixtus and finally, Liam, but he had no goblet so he raised Ingvar’s vial which he had pocketed in a loosely worn bandolier.
‘Master Ingvar! We will gather at Bordeaux on the thirtieth!’
Ingvar felt a sudden gush of blood flow away from his brain and into his cold heart. The warmth was overwhelming, it took his mind back decades, possibly even to his childhood. For Ingvar Evanssen, the sound of universal acclaim to a speech was what he lived to cultivate as a pillar of his philanthropic existence. The appraisal detoxified every bit of tension that was coursing through his body, culminating in him raising his own staff into the air to hollow cheers of the cohort, only for him to lose balance. Frailty was not his friend, and will never be anyone’s friend. Liam, despite the ache in his leg, probably a twisted ligament of some sort, came to the rescue and quickly grabbed the Grand Master before what would have been a fatal fall.
The old man was held back into place, balanced by his waist thanks to Liam’s boney arms which pressed into Ingvar’s equally boney hips.
‘We will go to Bordeaux on 30th August!’ Ingvar celebrated.
‘April!’ Corrected Iqbal.
‘I was testing your attention!’ Ingvar remarked. ‘Where was I? Ahh, yes. Please, I want the mappers amongst you to draw up a plan of action. In addition, I would like—no, wait—I DEMAND that my concoction be used in the process. I want to see those English troops sleep.’
Iqbal was about to raise his hand and protest against the wizard, but an arm from Callixtus quickly subdued him. The Venetian merchant then said, ‘Master Ingvar, we will adhere to your wise words. In the meantime, John and I will act in accordance to your desire to draw up a plan.’
Hovhannes placed down his goblet, then rested his palms against the table, the sleeves of his brownish, patchworked monk robe covering half of a clean plate and some wooden utensils, ‘I will draw up the plans. And yes, I will make sure that this mission be precluded if your concoction does not see usage.’
‘Iqbal!’ Roland called to the snake.
Iqbal Nayak was a witty being in his humanoid form, but stealthy if he was in his beast form. For now, he stood out like a sore thumb in the Environ. He was a harsh critic of the wizard but was also amongst the most loyal. Iqbal criticised him because he deeply cared. He preferred the ire from his peers than living in meaningless dogmatism for siding with those who made up a majority opinion. His was always very often the third-way.
‘Iqbal,’ Roland called out for a second time, as the rest of the Environ personnel exited the dining hall muttering and complaining to each other. With the two alone, the snake had no choice but respond to the human with reluctance.
‘Yes?’ Iqbal gave an emotionless response as he ogled Roland’s Anglo-style moustache.
‘You and your best mate Ceallaigh just can't let go of Ingvar it seems.’
‘But did I not criticise him vehemently?’
‘You criticise him because you care, and I do not blame you for that.’
Iqbal shook his head and raised his shoulders proclaiming innocence. ‘No, that is false. I am with you in his—you know.’
Roland was not angry nor frustrated, and he maintained a calm voice, ‘You struggle to say: dismiss. I believe there is much to admire from that filial piety in you.’ The English suddenly raised his voice, ‘but it is midnight, and by criticising him you only eat into our sleeping times. You may be a snake and need not much sleep, but we are human.’
Replete with intelligence, the cunning Iqbal had the like-mindedness of his one of his closest friends, Ceallaigh. Their profound thoughts and ideals synced with a fast grasp for all kinds of books both scientific and philosophical, while also relishing the diverse oral cultures throughout the broken continent. Unlike Ceallaigh (or Roland for that matter), Iqbal was talkative. Suffice to say his choice of words often led to extended periods of long-dragged filibustering. In some instances, he shifted through topics from one point to the sacrilege of another. He might purposefully attack his opponents with sardonic, satirical phrases that either disgusted people or send them to hawkish laughter. Otherwise, the python’s gregarious and consoling spirit was medicine to Environ’s inner circle. He held no popular opinion, but he held hope.
The spring air temperatures dipped as a gust of wind blew into their faces. Roland shrugged. ‘See you tomorrow at the living quarters. John will lead and adjudicate the session. I shall pay you a drink if you could also somehow distract Ingvar from ever attending that meeting.’
Iqbal twitched his eyebrows. It was disrespectful, but he liked the idea, ‘I will keep Ingvar in his chamber.’
‘Thank you, friend.’
(1941 words)
Appearances:
- Humans: Alondra, Callixtus, Ceallaigh (mentioned), Hovhannes (aka John), Ingvar, Liam, Roxane
- Humanoids: Iqbal
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 84 x 98px
File Size 2.5 kB
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