The fiddler’s tune falters as a travel-stained peddler enters through the tavern door. He is a middle-aged man of spare build, with a wind-burned face, graying beard, patched brown cloak, and a leather pack darkened by rain.
The Peddler
Which among you is the wounded French nobleman? I was told he rests here, near the rear table.
Laughter fades around the room. The keeper’s hand stills above the cups, while the Armagnac groom rises beside Robert’s chair, close enough to intervene.
The Keeper
Name your business before you take another step. This house has no welcome for trouble.
The Peddler
After the English withdrew, I passed near the old priory yard. This lay among discarded gear, and I heard it might belong to the lord who defended the place.
He produces a small personal object wrapped in a scrap of stained linen and holds it between thumb and forefinger. Firelight catches its worn surface, but not enough to identify it from across the room.
an Armagnac groom
Keep it where it is. If your story proves false, you will leave by the door without troubling my lord.
✓ Quest Accepted
Determine what the peddler’s object means for Robert’s account
“*I groaned as I placed my face into the palm of my hand* "Let him approach." *I groaned, slightly buzzed from the drinks I had throughout the night*”
SUCCESS (Great Diplomacy, rolled +0)
Robert groans and places his face into one palm, his other hand resting on the table. The ale and wine have left his speech and posture slightly unsteady.
Robert de Fiennes
Let him approach.
an Armagnac groom
You heard my lord. Come forward slowly, and keep your hands where we can see them.
The peddler obeys, crossing the tavern beneath the wary eyes of the villagers. He stops beside Robert’s table and lowers the linen-wrapped object onto the boards.
The Peddler
There, my lord. I found it among the discarded gear near the priory yard. I was told it might be yours.
The Keeper
Speak plainly, traveler. Where precisely did you find it, and who told you to bring it here?
The keeper remains behind the counter, watching the peddler closely. The groom stays at Robert’s shoulder, while the wrapped object waits within Robert’s reach.
“*With a sigh, I reached out and unwrapped the object, clearly not all that interested*”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled +2)
Robert pinches the linen loose with practiced fingers and lets the stained cloth fall open across the table. His attention remains languid, but the object is fully exposed.
A small bronze buckle lies within, its leather tongue snapped and its surface blackened by mud. Fine fleurs-de-lis are stamped across the metal, worn but deliberate.
The Peddler
I found it beneath a broken shield near the priory’s outer wall. No one claimed it while the English were withdrawing.
an Armagnac groom
That fastening may have held a nobleman’s cloak or saddle strap. It bears French work, though I cannot swear to the owner.
The peddler shifts his weight and keeps both hands visible. Around the tavern, villagers resume their murmurs, but several continue watching the buckle and Robert’s face.
The Keeper
If it is yours, my lord, say so. If it is not, the traveler still has a story to finish.
“*I slide it back across the table* "It is not mine, nor have I ever seen it before. I'm sure you'd find a fine price of it."”
SUCCESS (Great Diplomacy, rolled +0)
Robert slides the bronze buckle back across the table with two fingers. The stained linen bunches beneath it as the object comes to rest before the peddler.
Robert de Fiennes
It is not mine, nor have I ever seen it before. I am sure you would find a fine price for it.
The Peddler
A fair answer, my lord. A nobleman’s word should be worth more than a buckle, though a buyer may value the metal differently.
The peddler gathers the buckle and linen, but his eyes linger on Robert’s face. The room hears the denial, and also hears that Robert has sent valuable evidence away.
an Armagnac groom
You have spared yourself ownership, my lord, but not suspicion. He will carry your denial wherever he carries that fastening.
The Keeper
Then let the traveler sell it elsewhere. No man should turn a tavern table into a court over one small piece of bronze.
The peddler slips the buckle into his pack and bows, satisfied enough to depart. Robert’s answer has won its purpose, but the witness now owes him no silence and owes the tavern no further explanation.
“*I waved the peddler out of the tavern, finding no meaning in the buckle nor any use for it*”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled -1)
Robert lifts one hand and gives the peddler a firm outward wave. The gesture dismisses both man and buckle, leaving no invitation for further questions.
The Peddler
As you wish, my lord. I will seek my market elsewhere.
The peddler bows, tucks the linen-wrapped buckle into his leather pack, and crosses the tavern beneath the villagers’ curious stares. The door closes behind him.
an Armagnac groom
He is gone, my lord. Whatever meaning the buckle carried, it will not trouble this room tonight.
The Keeper
Good. A tavern serves food and drink, not mysteries dragged in from muddy roads.
Conversation gradually resumes around the tables. The fiddler tests a quiet phrase, dice begin to clatter again, and the groom settles beside Robert’s chair, watchful but no longer tense.
an Armagnac groom
He has chosen rest over every question that stranger carried. That is sensible, if not likely to satisfy the peddler.