Subversion

IAM Prompt for Mar 13

George walked the familiar cobblestones of the main boulevard that split Engleton in twain.  He walked as a three-legged man does, the heels of his boots clicked first then the tap of his cane.  He moved briskly, not for wont of time but because he felt a stirring in his spirit, something told him it would be a thought provoking day. 

George was not a wealthy man, nor was he a poor man.  If one were to measure him, he was an every-man.  What benefited George was the times in which every man enjoyed the burgeoning economy and the catapulting innovation of technology that was driving it.  George took the moment to marvel at all the recent changes that permeated his surroundings.  Electric lamps that could light up the evening.  The nearby tracks where the trains ran along.  And through the many paned windows there was some trinket or another of steam powered nuance. 

A smile spread across George's face, plainly visible even behind his mustache.  He turned away to a carved wooden door at the crest of a set of stone stairs, his destination.  The door was enshrined by a surround of white stone George had once assumed was marble but later learned it to be limestone.  The carvings were of cherubs linked in ascension before reaching a carved humanoid face with a bulbous head.  George tipped his hat to the androgynous human face before letting himself in. 

Swiftly George moved from the foyer, which belied the true nature of the building with its immaculate tidiness, towards the backrooms which gave way to a labyrinth of bookshelves and stacked bric-a-brac and odds and ends of one sort or another.  The musty smell of paper and parchment and aging wood filled his nostrils as he weaved his way through the maze before stopping at the archway to the study where his cameratas arrayed themselves in perches and seats as befit their nature. 

"Glad you could join us chum," said Conroy. 

Conroy was a percher and had perched himself on the edge of a desk.  The edge was all that was available as every other inch was covered in stacks of books and papers, some new, others yellowed with age.  Conroy’s look emulated a vulture very well with a widow's peak pushing past the edge of decency.  He watched George with beady through a set of small spectacles that rested on a beak of a nose.  The look was completed with a high-collared and embroidered shirt. 

"Indeed mate, come, find yourself a spot and do join the current scrum." 

This came from Olman, a sitter, for him that was all his immense girth would allow.  He had managed to nestle himself in between two stacks of books resting on a Chesterfield sofa.  A right jolly domesticated game bird he was too. 

"I think I shall, friends," said George. 

George doffed his hat and secured it on the head of his cane then held both to his side in the air.  And there was Mary to take it from him.  Mary was the maid of the Thinking Gentleman's Club and she was very good.  She operated with a speed and stealth unbeknownst was possible to any of the gentlemen present and though professional position prevented any of them from openly expressing their appreciation for her, her pay certainly reflected it. 

"Tea Mary, jasmine," requested George. 

"Hot and by the red armchair," replied Mary. 

George looked over to where she mentioned to see a steaming cup of tea placed on a saucer resting on an end table next to the very chair she mentioned.  He turned to flash her a winning smile and thank her, but she had already disappeared with his hat and cane.  George whisked past Khafa who sat in a similar chair to his own and settled in. 

"Truly there never was a more superior maid than Mar-ie," said Khafa his southern accent coming through. 

"Indeed," said George picking up his tea, "I thought I might trip her up one day and request chamomile but fear the end result of such an endeavor." 

A deep voice from a darker section of the study rumbled out, "Please do not, there is a saying amongst my people, those who play with fire burn ten men, and there is nigh ten men here." 

Despite being an eastern man D'raggo and bearing a dark countenance with predilections for villainous entrances was quite the jovial sort and when he smiled it lit up an entire room.  But his voice lent credence to any warnings and gave it a dire eminence. 

"True wisdom friend, never slight the one who makes your tea," said George and took a sip. 

"What is wrong my friend," asked D'raggo noticing George's surprised face. 

"The tea is chamomile," he said. 

There was a moment of silence before a raucous round of chortling at George's expense took over.  The foray was eventually interrupted by Mary who made her presence known by calling from the doorway. 

"Excuse me gentleman, there is a guest to see you," she said. 

"A guest?" asked Conroy. 

Mary nodded. 

There was a round of glances amongst those present.  They were not in the practice of receiving guests let alone in entertaining them.  Since the club's inception outside of the odd professor or fellow thought provocateur there had been no actual guests.  More to the point, this one had come unannounced, beyond irregular this was unheard of. 

"I guess you best show them in," said Conroy, "Someone who come in unannounced as they have can put up with the slight bit of clutter that befallsus." 

There was much nodding and grumbling of affirmation to this as the occupants of the study continued sipping their tea. 

"There's one more thing, sir," said Mary, "About your guest." 

"Yes?" 

"It's a kobold, sir." 

The room was almost dead silence, except for Khafa who had choked on his tea. 

"A what?" asked D'raggo. 

"Is this some foolery of yours, Mary?" asked Olman. 

"Gentleman, gentleman, compose yourselves," interrupted George, "MAry, show the, err, guest, in please." 

Mary left, and all eyes turned to George. 

"Good sir, what is your meaning in this?" asked Khafa. 

"I believe we are all curious to know why you are so willing to invite one of... those, in here," said Conroy. 

"Dreadful things, unclean, shifty little scamps," said D'raggo. 

George set his tea upon the end table and lifted himself to take the stage in the center of the room. 

"Gentleman I am neither the oldest member nor the newest, but for the first time since I have become a part of this club of thinking men, I am ashamed.  You have shamed me so." 

George waved his hands in motions to accentuate his words, "No, no, it is not your prejudices that offend me.  We are all living thinking, growing creatures on the Lord's good Earth and we all have them.  Though I will, mind you, that if we were all subject to the prejudices of others this very city would scant exist.  Imagine D'raggo if every time you entered a restaurant the servers would begin hiding the silverware.  Conroy, imagine then if everyone threw sausages at you as you approached." 

There was much ruffling of facial hair and downcast eyes mixed with ire at George's words. 

"Friends, I do not speak these words to cast aspersions on your ancestors or your personal lineage.  I merely wish to point out that making judgements against our guest before we have met him is unfair and beneath us.  Which brings me to my original point, that which mortifies me." 

George paused to garner the full attention of everyone.  When was the last time you talked to a kobold?" he asked. 

He let his words sink in. 

"Most encounters with the creatures are at the behest of others or through parchments.  We know that they are capable of understanding speech and that to a certain degree they are capable of speaking it, yet does one come to anyone outside of demand of payment for services rendered.  When was the last time that any here can recall that one of these creatures came into a place of learning to speak or learn and yet, here we stand looking for a fainting couch when one requests an audience with us." 

"Your words carry merit friend," said D'raggo, "But I still do not like it, I can't stand the smell of the dirty things, barely more than beasts." 

"I imagine if every interaction you had with a child was after they finished shoveling a stable, your opinion of children would be less than positive as well.  I am certain that the guest in question has done enough to tidy himself up for the likes of us to be his audience lest Mary chase him away with a broom." 

From behind George, Mary cleared her throat, and all turned to see her with their guest in tow.  Standing beside the maid in typical Koboldian attire was an anthropomorphic lizard with large, pointed ears.  Pale green scales complimented bright yellow eyes.  George was flustered for a moment, not sure of how much their guest had heard nor the proper etiquette in this situation if any offense was taken.  The silence was broken for him when the kobold in question looked up to Mary and made a request. 

"Tea... Please...," the creature struggled to form the words and most of it came out as a rasp. 

Mary looked at Conroy who nodded in turn.  Mary turned away silently and floated out of the room.  The kobold turned back to his audience and fixed them all with a stare that left George feeling violated.  He felt as if he was being assessed on many levels.  The kobold reached into a pouch and produced a smooth black stone covered in carved glyphs, an Oathstone. 

"Pledge... secret... keep," the very act of speaking seemed to irritate the kobold, but George garnered the gist of the sentiment. 

George reached forward and pressed his thumb against the stone. 

"I do solemnly swear to keep the secrets uttered within this room." 

The stone glowed briefly where George had touched it.  The twitch of a smile crossed the kobold's face.  The kobold then turned his gaze to Conroy.  Conroy hesitated a moment before mimicking George's gesture.  Next came Olman, then Khafa, and finally D'raggo.  It was at this time that Mary returned with tea for the guest and George thought he might request the same of her, but he did not.  He took his tea and placed it on the top of a nearby desk, or dresser, hard to tell in all the clutter. 

Then he turned his back to George facing the doorway, he arched his neck in a manner to look at George then began patting his own back with his hand.  George was confused.  Was he asking George to strike his back.  The kobold began to cough violently, it sounded like he was choking, he continued to pat his back. 

George hoped he understood well and began patting the poor creature on the back, softly first, then harder, until finally the creature coughed up what had been irritating him so.  The kobold spat out a golden sphere, spiked it seemed, like the head of a morningstar.  The creature clumsily grabbed his tea and downed the entire cup. 

The creature seemed to recover itself as it slid its tongue across its lips revealing a set of sharp teeth.  The kobold turned to his audience and placed the teacup on its saucer with absolute grace.  It rubbed its throat gingerly before speaking. 

"My apologies gentleman for that unsightly scene," the kobold's voice had metamorphosed into a dominating baritone. 

If the spectacle the kobold had displayed coughing up the golden ball had awestruck his audience, the change in its demeanor had left them dumb.  The kobold took the opportunity to remove a handkerchief from another pouch on its belt and scoop away the golden ball. 

"I know this is quite a shock for you, but rest assured all will become clear.  I only ask that you hold off your undoubtably excited queries until after I finish." 

The kobold removed a stack of papers from an Ottoman and gently placed them on the floor before seating himself.  Instinctively his audience, including George, also found a seat. 

"I will first inform you comrades, for that is what we are now, that the effects of the oath you took are permanent and I am equally bound to it as you are.  I'm certain you all can appreciate the need for secrecy in this matter given the prejudices humans have for my kind.  It simply would not do for the general public to know that my kind are capable of what you are witnessing right now." 

It was at this point that Olman and D'raggo both became aware that they had been holding their teacups in front of them for some time and took the pause to settle them on nearby saucers. 

"As much as my evident intellect and capable speech is a spectacle for you, it is unfortunately not the reason I came to inquire an audience of you.  Hear me comrades for I bear ill news.  Ah, where are my manners.  My apologies, I do forget myself sometimes, but the pressing matters do worry me so.  My name is Albert, and from this moment on we are comrades in a dire endeavor.  You see, much like yourselves, I am a thinker and orator amongst my kind and the 'club' to which I belong holds some power within the greater organization of my people.  The grave news I bear is that the ruling parties of my kind are deciding what to do about the humans, and I fear they are slowly in measured degrees moving towards a most uncivilized solution.  That is to say, in more uncivil terms they plan to remove humans from the city with no intention of being polite about it.  As you can imagine, for my presence here in telling you of these things that I belong to a party that disagrees with this action and wants to make every effort to avoid it.  I would also say that I am breaking a fair few rules in telling you all of this or in speaking to you in general.  It has become common practice amongst my kind to let the humans have their prejudices and to think less of them for having them.  So, gentleman, my comrades, I wish to join our minds and thoughts and seek a solution to this problem.