Marriage or Death (Part 1)

Earlier this week…

Henri Metier had arrived at port Babbage on Sunday night late.  The air was a very distinct color, which reminded Henri of Macbeth, one of his favorite Shakespeare plays, which opens with an unnatural fog thanks to the witches.  It was probably a bad omen, but it just made Henri laugh.  He breathed in the air for a moment, there was definitely something in the air this night.  It was a shame his friend didn’t appreciate this as much as he did though.  Henri took a few good deep breaths, and then coughed, and before he was even able to catch his breath he was laughing again.  Oh well, he thought as he stepped onto Babbage concrete, I’ll get used to it.

Henri’s first night wandering the port of New Babbage had been uneventful for the most part.  He’d walked up and down the streets, passing several people, none of whom had the time for a strange man wearing clothing, and underneath that armor, that had been out of style ever since the french had done away with the musketeers completely in 1816. Most people were able to figure out just from one look at him that he was a fool, but someone would have to actually talk to him for a length of time to figure out that being a fool was in fact his biggest life long ambition.

So Henri walked through this land of Babbage, a smile on his lips as his clothing became darker and the white in his coat and the feathers slowly started to turn grey, which he thought was funny.  He continued on his way, and eventually was lead to a rather agreeable horse fellow. Henri engaged him in a conversation and soon they were talking over a bottle of wine in the Rusty Cog.  He didn’t learn anything about where the last Sinclaire could be, but it was a wonderful night all the same.

Teusday was much better because, Henri was able to locate a few clues about the last Sinclaire, but not her location or anyone who could send her a message where he could set up a meeting with her ahead of time.  That was, until he ran into a small rat urchin who was begging for some food.  Henri asked if he knew where Sinclaire was, and the urchin wasted no time in revealing that he might get the info in exchange for food.  Henri chuckled as he paid him in coin, when another gentleman with long black hair and white skin approached them and he got another warning from his friend.  The man asked for his name after awhile, and once he discovered it he begged the child not to reveal where Sinclaire was, saying that he was there to kill her.

Yes, Henri admitted to the child, that was what usually happened in a blood feud, especially ones bound and written in blood, but that part he kept to himself for the moment, nor did he mention that they did have one other option.  Henri took the chance to ask for the Sinclaire to set up a meeting in a public place of her choice and with as many friends as she liked.  Before he left the child had told him about a yellow lion in the north wall and claimed that’s where he’d find Sinclaire.  

He didn’t need the voice in the back of his head yelling at him to tell him the kid was lying, but his curiosity was peeked.  Besides, before the message was sent, what else was he to do with his time?  He couldn’t risk another night of revelery now that her friends knew that he was here for a fact.

He wandered the town searching for the north wall, something his friend refused to help him find for some reason, something about it being right in front of his face, when he found himself in the wrong part of town and a small bunny told him that he was going in the wrong direction.

Henri asked him about the Sinclaire, and the bunny told him that he wouldn’t lie and that he did know her.  He told him to give her the same message, and then went off looking for that lion to pass his time before he got his answer.

He did get his response that night, the meeting would take place at somewhere called the Bucket of Blood.  Now that the meeting had been agreed to he had a prayer to complete.  If she was going to believe anything he said. All he’d needed was to find seven alters, and how hard could that be before 5pm the next day?