The Call

A letter comes to Renard from a neighbouring lord.

As he unwinds in his study to read it, with Colette peeking from over his shoulder, his brow scrunches further and further for each line of the text.

This neighbour speaks of an anomaly that has arisen on his land. The nature of this anomaly is hard for the lord to describe, dressed in vague sweeping words as ‘odd occurrence’ and ‘abnormal thing’, which, while not useful in explaining why this anomaly hooked the lord’s attention, do carry an air of instinctual concern that demands the matter inspected. Though nothing in the letter says this ‘anomaly’ is threatening — as it is apparently stable, not expanding, localised to one spot, and not doing anything — all the locals who have gone to inspect it were reportedly puzzled, and nobody the lord had sent could discern why the anomaly had appeared, what its presence could signify, or fundamentally what it even was. The strange mystery of it has left the lord intrigued and uneasy.

Given the suspiciously supernatural quality of the anomaly, the lord questions if Renard may have insight. He has sent bladesmen who have faced ghouls to inspect the anomaly already, who have also been puzzled with no epiphanies, but Renard is experienced in a way these greenhorns aren’t. If the anomaly is indeed ghoulish in nature, he may be able to pick up on something all others have missed.

Renard leans back in his seat and glances to Colette, herself puzzled with her brow knit.

“No taxonomies leap to my tongue," Renard admits. Whatever the lord is describing, Renard doesn’t recognise it. Nor does it sound like anything specific he’s seen — that said, the lord’s description is vague, and to suspect something ‘abnormal’ as ghoulish is likely correct. Renard plants his mouth in the crook of his thumb and reads the message over, still stumped.

“What shall you write back to him?" Colette asks.

“I’ve not the words. Lord Byrus is a peaceful neighbour, a good man, and has always been pleasant to us." Renard stands from his seat and files the letter into his desk. “I would wish to myself see this ‘oddity’, before I would let this caper leave him vexed."

“It’s certainly mysterious," Colette muses.

“Yes… it draws my imagination, too," Renard mutters. He shrugs on his coat and voices his suspicion that it probably is just a ghoul, though, that manifested in a weird way. If that hypothesis is true, then for Renard to deal with it may be overkill — but if the hunters Byrus already asked have failed to do much, then the favour of popping in is not skin off Renard’s back.

Plus, Byrus is a reasonable man. If he hesitates to call the anomaly one thing or another, that hesitation likely has merit, and if he thought Renard was not totally necessary, he would not have asked his opinion.

“Are you leaving tonight?" asks Colette, seeing Renard lumber to the doorway while he buttons his coat. “Very well. Be careful, love, and tell me all about it." She signs her farewell with a peck on the cheek and the lips.

‘Be careful!? Why should I need to be careful! I’m Renard Cox! I crush trifling beasts as these under my boots like trapped mice!’ All this time in peace with Colette, knowing fully of her good intentions, and strange that such sentiments do still spear from the depths of his heart like flame-wreathed lances. The man who would act on these impulses, though, has been buried, and a flow of calm understanding balms the burn back down.

Smile light and shoulders untensed, Renard squeezes her reassuringly, kisses her back, and exits the door.