“…” Canary awkwardly grabs onto her left arm with her right for assurance.
“It’s not a few evenings. It’s several weeks… If you do it for everyone.”
She’s moving the goalpost.
“I’m sure he’s doing his best…”
(You get the impression that Jan basically doesn’t think of ‘what things you’re willing to say in public about a noble’ as necessarily having any connection to the truth — he’s lying, in the sense that he doesn’t think it’s a given that the baron is doing his best, but to him it feels less like he’s deliberately telling a falsehood and more like he’s just saying the thing that Of Course you say, like how someone in the real world might respond with ‘I’m doing great’ to ‘how are you?’ even if in fact they were not doing great. He treats it as sort of a fact of life that if he criticizes a noble and it gets back to them, they might ruin his life; it’s unlikely that it would, but why risk it?)
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He nods.
“To be bereft of the opportunity to explore is one I wouldn’t wish on any. It’s good to give them time outside, even given the conditions.”
He tilts his head to the side.
“I assume this is a stay you wish to be temporary.”
(ten crowns for materials (unsure if your character is Lying here), 30/3 = 10)
“Look…”
Paprika’s realized by now that Canary doesn’t take well to insults against her companions, for some reason. But Drakor’s a half-orc, Zelsh will never pass for a noble, Lionel’s exact status is obvious no matter what he’s wearing, Arius is… and Wanderer is annoying!
“I’m not good with men’s clothes,” she lies.
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(I messed up but it’s reasonable for her to be lying)
“…We’ll see,” she says. She doesn’t sound very optimistic. “—’Medion! Get that out of your mouth!”
Her older child, who looks to be about two, sets a pebble down on the ground, a guilty expression on his face. “Wasn’t in my mouth!”
2
“…okay.”
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“Glad to hear it.”
Paprika does not literally drag Canary into the fabric store, but she may as well have.
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But… you’re… trained. You would… probably…
I feel myself being pulled, and snap back to my here and now.
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He snorts before recomposing.
(This may be stupid, I am a little tired)
“It may be difficult to talk about, but I want to help those dealing with the circumstances. For that, I would appreciate knowing as much as possible about what has happened down south. In particular, if soldiers from the north are getting involved.”
Drakor sighed. “Yeah, I suppose. At least he’s not Baron Dalin. He didn’t even show up to his own Harvest Feast.”
@discobot roll 1d20
(sense motive again to see if the mention of Dalin’s name elicits a reaction)
(23)
The fabric store is currently being staffed by a woman around your age, maybe even younger. (If you’ve been to this particular fabric store, this is a new and surprising development.) She greets you with a tired quasi-smile as you enter. “Can I help you find anything?”
The fabric itself is skewed a bit more in the upscale direction, but despite that it still has reliable staples like wool. Based on what the store is selling, it seems that paisley prints are currently fashionable among middle-class people, but guessing what’s in-style from the fabric currently in stock can be a bit of a fool’s errand.
But I don’t want paisley.
Paprika gives a curt “no thank you” and starts browsing.
(Would figuring out what’s most fashionable be local or nobility knowledge)
She looks down. “I don’t know what’s happening up north. I know in my village, the soldiers were coming through, telling us we were obligated to feed them, and… we added it up, and it was obvious that if they kept coming through with the same demands, there’d be nothing left for our family.” Pause. “‘Medion, what did I just tell you?”
The toddler drops a pebble on the ground. Probably the same pebble.