No Good Deed...

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“As you can see, Durrough Bend Hospital is in a truly sad state of affairs after those nasty Queen’s soldiers ruined so much of it. We couldn’t bring any poor soul here to heal, and this is why Durrough’s main hospital by the Bastion is so badly cramped, hardly anyone can heal properly, very bad for the mind being cramped up with other poor souls moanin’ all the time…”

 

Lady Seonaid certainly had no problem talking, Caelan noted silently as he watched her animated sales pitch to High Alderman Gillespie, who seemed to blithely take in her high-speed gab like someone interested but only from a distance, which he was…

 

“And we did have a previous allotment from Grand Duke Cartney, bless his soul, but that only paid for some of the broken windows and all the doors, but the well is still not functionin’, with no wench and needin' a bit a’ dredgin’…”

 

Ugh, Caelan thought again. Will she not finish? At least he had his glory with him, Lady Kenzie, whom everyone knew by now was his fiancee, as he had proposed so publicly at the grand party the Duke threw in celebration of Lenfald’s Independence. What a mad occasion that was, everyone yelling in joy and cheering “Lenfald Free Forever!” over and over again. The women threw flowers, the gentlemen their hats, and the soldiers and sailors just about everything else…

 

“And so your honorable High Alderman in order to prepare properly for what God-forbid could be another bloody conflict with the uncouth and heatless Loreesi, we must restore this hospital as overflow for poor Durrough, packed to brim with the sick and healin’ as it is…”

 

Caelan glanced at his love, so beautiful she shined even on a cloudy day such as this one. Kenzie was listening intently to Lady Seonaid, as if every word mattered, and nodded with her frequently. Caelan wondered to himself how women managed to bond so quickly and find agreement with someone so disagreeable, so long as they were a woman as well.

 

“How much?” Gillespie suddenly interrupted Lady Seonaid, finally getting to both her point for her, and nearing the end of his own patience to deal with the seemingly never-ending flow of words. Caelan thought to himself that Gillespie didn’t seem like most politicians he knew, and against his better judgement began to admire him a bit.

 

It was abrupt, and having stopped her train of thought like a cart turned over on High Street, she had to think before finally stating, “I believe the sum of One Thousand Draken will be quite enough to put us in good stead.”

 

Even the Alderman, used to having people ask him for all sorts of things and amounts of money, was taken aback. “Milady, I would say you are making a joke, except your reputation for not having a sense of humor has preceded you. This amount is simply not possible, not now and not for the foreseeable future. Since we can consider this further repair as a preparation for any potential combat, perhaps I can spare One Hundred Draken from the war chest…”

 

He never finished as the good lady then launched into a high-energy objection, restating everything she had already said, with the words “urgently needed” a good half-dozen times sprinkled in, and a new insistence on raising taxes to fill the bill.

 

The High Alderman, up to this point an admirably patient and calm man, began to lose it. “Taxes! Milady, raising taxes in plentiful time of peace is difficult enough, but in these uncertain times, with the Nation so young, we might as well start the riots ourselves and save the time at it!!!”

 

And this was the moment Sir Caelan was waiting for, lacking only a white horse to ride in on in his moment of saving the day! “Lady Seonaid,” he began plaintively, and glancing at Kenzie, who was already in on the secret, “I believe I have the solution to the problem.”

 

Both the Alderman and the demanding Headmistress of Durrough Hospital turned to him, surprised and expectant.

 

He proudly offered a sack of items he had been lugging around these long minutes, and exposed the contents. It was a wealth of gold and silver items, stolen knick knacks and goodies of various value. But it was the leather purse he offered that really mattered. “All recovered from the last few Queen’s Troops caught by my Lenfel Scout Snipers. And in this purse you will find somewhere around five hundred Draken as well.”

 

Instead of the joy that he thought it would bring, however, Lady Seonaid looked at him hard and stated, “I cannot accept stolen items! And this is blood money, no doubt, as you and your ruffians are so very likely as to put those arrows so deeply in your victims that we are forced to work on them like mad to fix…”

 

“Milady, let me explain,” he interrupted her, not willing to have his moment of glory diminished, “these items have no names on them, they came from a large stash of booty gathered from all over Roawia so we can’t find their owners, and the thieves were captured alive and unharmed by my men. Normally it would be considered war-booty for the Scouts, but knowing your predicament here, and as your Order healed me a few months ago, I convinced them instead to donate them to your cause. They are yours, and you can accept them with a clear con….”

 

Before he could finish, the expected joy on Lady Seonaid’s face finally appeared, and taking the sack in hand she wore a huge smile, and immediately offered — Lady Kenzie her deepest gratitude. “What an angel you are Kenzie,” she exclaimed with sudden sweetness, “this will be long remembered! We all know you of course coming from such an excellent family and all, so generous and lovin’.”

 

Caelan blinked. Had he missed something here?

 

“Thank you Milady,” Kenzie nodded with grace, “but they are actually a gift from Sir Caelan here…”

 

“Oh, nonsense Kenzie, we all know brutes like soldiers would never think of something like this themselves, don’t be so modest, we all know who really is behind such generosity…”

 

This last did not get past him, and not wishing to cause a scene with an objection, all the young Baron could do was exchange bewildered glances with High Alderman Gillespie, who suddenly looked like he badly needed to burst out laughing…

 

“Besides,” Seonaid suddenly threw in, “we spend so much time patchin’ him up and repairin’ the havoc his soldiers cause that it’s owed anyway. Now my lovely generous patron let me show you what we will do with your beautiful gift…” She grabbed Kenzie by the hand and began to lead her alone toward the garden, and having gotten what she needed for her cause, she left the men behind as if they didn’t exist.

 

Kenzie only had time to look at Sir Caelan and mouth “I’m so sorry” before being dragged off.

 

“Did I miss something…was there a thank you buried in there somewhere…”

 

“Not for you!” the Alderman gave way to his laughter. “Your men could have spent that money on drink, or their women or children, but you all should have known that no good deed…”

 

“…goes unpunished,” Caelan finished for him, all glory gone with the treasure.

 

“Well my Baron, tis a fine mess you’ve created,” still he chuckled, “for I must now ask ye a question. Booty declared must be taxed, and you just declared that lot. So, ye have not paid yer taxes on that lot yet, have ye?”

 

Caelan sourly changed his mind. Gillespie was a politician sure enough….

Done