[Mkguild] Merry Marriage Round Robin: Goffs Oak

[Indagare]

At the center of the town stood the oak and under it sat a beautiful
barefoot woman clothed in green. She seemed almost elvish and looked out
with deep interest at the humans going about their business in the small
town.

“Good day, Dryope, I hope you are well-pleased?” The people of the town
were always careful to treat Dryope with respect: she was a high nymph and
had helped them through many trials. Her happiness was vital to the small
community.

She giggled. “I could not be better pleased were I a cat in the sunlight on
soft velvet with cream to drink, Mayor Tom. It seems to me that I sometimes
could do better for you.”

“I should hope none have come asking you favors!”

“Indeed they have not. Your community does well, and it pleases me to see
it prosper so. Yet power I have that I may use. Is that not right and
proper for a follower of Yeshua?”

Tom simply bowed and wished her a good day before heading off. She smiled
and thought on the oddity of it. As a nymph, she was one of the myriad
descendants of Artela, yet she had been raised by followers of Yeshua. Her
biological mother had perished in the terrible Burning that had destroyed
much of Marigund a hundred years ago, but had given the head of the Geoff
family one of her seeds. When the head of the Geoff family had planted it
here, she awoke and learned.

All the community around her were Latharians, and they had taught her all
they knew. They had fled the Burning, carrying what they could on their
backs and carried in their hearts their faith. It seemed nowhere they went
would welcome them until they finally came to Metamor Valley and made
themselves a home.

The Valley itself was rich in magic, which changed her from a simple nymph
to a high nymph. Yet she believed what the devoted people around her
believed. She kept herself close to the tree she was birthed from, but her
power was more tied to the land around Goffs Oak rather than the tree
itself.

Still, there was room near her tree, plenty of room for a church. She
thought it might look pretty before one. But there were no Latharian
priests to be had, so her community would traverse by wagon and foot every
Sunday to the church in Euper, some two leagues hence. She went with them
invisibly to protect them, and then back again. She also liked Father Hough
a lot, but kept hoping that, one day, her community would get a priest of
its own.

***

James smiled at his wife Anne as she went about the kitchen. He helped
where and as he could–no slouch in cooking, and eager to help. They were
getting their supper ready–a mostly light fast–when the door knocked.

“Who could that be at this hour?” wondered Anne.

“Surely it’s some poor sojourner. We’ve got the extra place set and can add
more if we need.” James answered the door quickly. “Ah, it’s the
archbishop. Come in, your honor, we were just about to have dinner.”

The Archbishop of Marigund was a balding, sixty-some-year-old man. His face
had the lines and worries that came with a person who took his calling
seriously–and who was also placed in one of the most tenuous areas of the
world: a place that had suffered terrible religious persecution, the embers
of which still smouldered.

“Ah, thank you Pastor James, but I cannot stay. Indeed, I have come to ask
you and Anne a great favor. One which I would not ask were I not out of
other options.”

Anne came in the room, a hand holding a towel on one hip. “Surely your
reverence is not going to leave here without even a bite?”

The Archbishop gulped. He knew that tone from his own wife. “Well, perhaps
a bit, but I don’t want to keep Penelope waiting too long. She worries
about my safety after dark.”

James was quite sure the Archbishop’s wife worried about his safety
regardless of the time of day, but the three sat at the table and the
Archbishop said grace, and they tucked in. Once they finished, James and
Anne cleared the table and sat with the Archbishop.

“Now, what was it you wanted?” asked James.

The Archbishop sighed and placed a gilded letter down on the table: a
wedding invitation by a member of the Brightleaf family. James let out a
little ‘oh’ that was almost completely breath. Anne looked at it confused.

“Well, the family certainly is part of our church and has been since time
out of mind,” she said. “It makes only sense they’d want you to marry him.”

“Ah, yes.” The Archbishop shuffled. “It’s just that Penelope is not…um…”

“It *is* a long journey,” said Anne, keeping her tone steady.

“But the Brightleafs are major contributors to the church,” said James.

“Ah, yes, and it would not due to insult them,” said the Archbishop. He
seemed to be having trouble sitting still, as if he were on thorns.

“And there are younger bishops who could go with no insult,” said Anne.

“Unless they specifically asked for you,” said James.

“Ah, well, no, they didn’t, not me specifically,” said the Archbishop.

“Would you be needing something more comfortable for your chair, your
reverence?” asked Anne.

“Ah, no, thank you. The seat couldn’t be more comfortable.”

That James had no doubt on. “The bishops are, perhaps, busy?” He knew where
this was going. The look on Anne’s face told him she knew where it was
going too. Neither of them was happy.

“So many obligations, this time of year, and, of course, most of the
pastors have flocks to tend to…” The chair would not need buffed for some
time.

“Unlike me, who moved here not long ago?” James asked in as neutral a tone
as he could manage.

The Archbishop seemed to take a sudden cough. “Ah, that is…I won’t force
you, of course…”

The two looked to one another. They didn't have many material goods. They
could return, but… “When should we leave?”

“In a week. You’ll have the best of magical protections, of course.” With
that, the Archbishop jumped from the seat, thanked them and headed out the
door as if being chased by an angel with a flaming sword.

***

The trip was long. From Marigund to Wolin to Kelewair. From Kelewair to
Salidon to Bozojo. From Bozojo to Elarial to Giftum. From Giftum to Komley
to Midtown.

At Midtown they were offered accommodations along with the rest of the
people they’d been travelling with, but neither Anne nor James were that
impressed despite the size of the town. There was a certain coldness that
never seemed to lift, and when some of the Brightleaf clan moved, they were
happy to join them.

Laselle, two and a half leagues from Midtown, seemed little friendlier. “I
wonder if there’s ice in the hearts of all these northerners,” said Anne.

“That seems not true, not for the most of them. But those who run the towns
are men who risk hubris. We shall not be among them long; we must head
north from here, though we risk the Curse.”

“There’s no Curse that can be worse than a frozen heart,” said Anne firmly.

They were glad to hear special accommodations had been made for them in
Metamor Keep. They would not be there long enough to get Cursed unless they
chose to stay. It was in Metamor Keep they met Father Hough.

“I must admit, this is a bit different,” said James as he looked at the
diminutive peace. Anne was showing remarkable restraint by not simply
picking him up and hugging him!

“I have certainly found it so,” Hough said with a smile. “Though there are
priests who are larger here, it seems many of us are a bit more diminutive.
Perhaps a reminder by Eli for humility.”

“It could be so. I wanted to go over things with you; the Brightleaf family
has long been Latharians, but our local archbishops, bishops, and, uh…”

“Everyone but you and your dear wife?”

“Yes, so it seems, was occupied. But I am fully ordained and my own family
has some connections with the Brightleafs. I am suitable, but this is your
perish.”

“A beginning of it, perhaps,” Hough smiled. “We shall see. Have you thought
if you would be staying?”

“Would we have a place?” asked Anne. She had been awed by the sheer
diversity to be found at Metamor Keep, but she didn’t want a place they’d
be unwelcomed. She only too well recalled the stories of the Burning.

“I think so. There’s a small town west of here called Goffs Oak and the
people there are Latharians as well–one of the few Reformer groups I know
of up here. They come to me for services, such as I may grant, but they
really need their own spiritual leaders…”

“What’s Goffs Oak like?”

“Much like any quaint town, though it has a magnificent oak tree on a large
plot of land that would be perfect for a church. There’s also a nymph there
named Dryope.”

“She’s not demanding worship, is she?” James asked, his expression going
dark. He’d heard too many tales of nymphs to trust one off hand.

“No, she’s very friendly and half Larthian. They raised her, you see, and
she adopted some of their beliefs. How it applies to someone like her is
beyond me. But I’ve met her and she respects me. Even better, Madog likes
her. You can generally trust Madog when it comes to someone’s character.”

“And who’s Madog?” asked Anne.

“Stay here long enough and you’ll meet him. It’s impossible to miss him,
unless he desires, since he’s an automata fox.”

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