(ORP) After the Verdict

[Dwayberry]

((This RP is based on the court case http://www.secfenia.org/view_case.php?id=115, feel free to join in))

She had expected a heavier fine, or even a few days in jail. Not this.
As she walked home slowly, she let her eyes run over the text once more and frowned. Judge Taz' verdict was carefully written down by the scribe, so there was no way for her to forget what he wanted her to do.



The court fees she had paid straight from her pockets without any problems. Filling the order for the town wouldn't be a problem either, especially not for such prices...
But mine work? She hadn't done any mine work in ages. To be honest, not at all since she moved to Fenia after her... "accident". She vaguely remembered working in the mine a few times during her days in Bravia, but she never liked the job. Even before her strong dislike of small, dark spaces, she didn't like mine work. The dust would get into your hair and clothes, and in your lungs until you could still "taste" the mine days after.
Still, it might be less bad than prison, and it was only two days. And apparently, the judge felt he'd been lenient. She could appeal, but what if the mages would end up thinking the judge had been too lenient? They might discover she was actually making money out of this verdict. No, she'd go to the mine and figure something out to deal with the small,
dark space problem.

Then there was the other thing... working in the town militia. The mere idea was degrading! She just knew some of the same guards that were there on the night of July 10 would be there... laughing that she had to be one of them for those two days. And she would probably be the one to be on constant lookout during the most quiet hours, while the other cards were drinking beer and playing cards. Would serve them right if she would let any possible revolter pass. Although... if she wasn't sure about such a person's intention, she wouldn't be able to ignore it and risk mayor Amanda's safety. No, she'd actually have to do a good job at this. Or at least, good enough.
Cursing softly under her breath, she folded up the parchment and put it away, before visiting the market to buy wheat and corn.

[TheGardener]

amanda was placing some orders for the town hall to acquire. looking over, she saw dwayberry heading to the market. she waved at dwayberry.

[Miss_Malan]

Malan was browsing through the market looking for fresh fruit when she noticed an old friend. She stopped bartering with the stall owner for a moment and waved.

Hello Dwayberry, how are you?

She noticed that her friend wasn't looking too pleased and wondered why. Perhaps she'd finally gotten the verdict in that pesky court case of hers. Malan smiled inwardly. Life was certainly never boring around Dway, unlike herself.

Where are you off to?

[Dwayberry]

It took a while before Dwayberry noticed someone waving at her and her face softened to an almost-smile when she saw it was Amanda. She was glad her friend didn't hold a grudge after her actions. She had been pretty convinced Amanda would be able to see the fun in the "surprise visit", but it had still been a little risky. You never know in what sort of mood people woke up when you disturb them at night.
She waved back at Amanda, and was about to say something when she heard a familiar voice.

"Oh hello miss Malan. I'm alright I suppose... still alive.", she smirked wryly.
"I'm on my way to buy some supplies the honourable judge wants me to sell to the town hall. Very awkward I must say, but oh well... It's not that part of the verdict I've got a problem with."[

[Dwayberry]

Later that day, Dwayberry arrived home with several bags of corn. She dumped the pile on the floor, causing her cat Tabby to jump up in shock and hide under the bed. She panted and wiped sweat off her forehead, while mumbling some sort of apology to the cat. She immediately regretted it, talking to an animal as if it actually understood what she said, and turned the apology into a half-hearted curse towards the judge, the public prosecutor and the guard that had reported her.
"Forty freaking corn meal... seriously.", she grumbled, realising she had to either borrow or buy a cart somewhere, or make several more trips to the market, and kicked one of the bags.
She then took the piece of parchment with the verdict written on it and unfolded it on the table. She carefully noted down underneath the list of goods how many bags of corn she had purchased at what price. Remembering she would end up making money out of this, she calmed down a little. Right... back to the market, but first...
She went over to the bed, squatted down and retrieved a wooden chest from underneath. The movement caused poor Tabby to run for another hiding place, but she ignored it as she searched for the key to open the lock of the chest.

Seeing the content of the chest never failed to make her happy, and this time was no different as she ran her fingers through the gold coins, enjoying the shine and the chinking sound of coins landing on coins. She thought back to when she first purchased the chest and put in the remainder of her very first grave robbing loot. Her money, to buy whatever useless things she wished to possess. It was almost sad she had to take out some to buy corn and wheat now, although she would soon be able to replace the money, and add a little more.
She took out a rather impressive handful and deposited it in her bag before leaving the house to get another load of corn from the market.

[Dwayberry]

Once she stored all wheat and corn in the lower chamber of her mill, Dwayberry decided to get the worst jobs over with first the next morning. She took some time debating which job was worst, the mine work or the militia.
The mine work, definitely. As embarrassing as joining the militia would be, parading around with a sword wouldn't be as bad as having to work in a dimly lit cramped space filled with mine dust for a scandalously low wage. True, she paid similar scandalously low wages to field labourers, but at least they'd get to spend the whole day outside in sunshine and fresh air. And rain, occasionally, admitted. But she allowed them to take shelter in the shed, take a long lunch break, as well as drink as much water as they pleased throughout the day. And work was usually done within six hours. And most importantly, most of the time she wasn't there to check on how hard they were working. Unlike the mine, where there would be a superintendent whose only job it was to make the other labourers miserable, and make sure production was as high as the low wages and work conditions allowed.
She sighed deeply and went to prepare for tomorrow. She had thrown away her old rags but still owned several sets of clothing she never wore anymore, and not all of them were too inappropriate for mine work. She had enough food to bring tomorrow. There was not much left to do but wait till early morning when mine work would start. She wouldn't sleep, it was no use as the nightmares would only wake her up again in a most distressed state. No, it would be better to hang out in the tavern until late at night. Searching a grave would take too long and would be too exhausting before having to break into stone all day, but she could step by the temple and shatter some windows. Seeing the colourful glass break always made her happy, not just because the temple had refused her shelter when she needed it last winter, but also because she liked to collect the shards and save them for later... when she decided what to do with them.

[Dwayberry]

She took a firm grip on the handle of the pickaxe, lifted it over her head, and brought it down with full force. The face of the mine superintendent she visualised on the section of rock splintered under the impact, and she smirked wryly. Again she lifted the pickaxe, this time visualising the face of someone else she disliked on the rock surface.
A large shadow blocked the sun that had been burning on her back. She was lucky, in a way, that they were cutting out a new passage into the hill and so there was a spot outside for her to work. She hadn't even needed to plead for it, as it turned out the superintendent had attended the court case and had smirked most cruelly when she showed up at the mine.

"So you're afraid your fair skin will get sunburned aye? I've got just the right spot for you to work today."

She had been relieved to be able to stay out of the cramped tunnels, but had glared at him for good measure. Not too much though, she still needed him to write a letter for the judge as a proof she had been working there.

She ignored the shadow and continued working, until her vision was blocked by a piece of parchment.

"You're going to work hard for this, miss Berry?", came the familiar voice of the mine superintendent, followed by a laugh.
"You're not sweating hard enough! I want to freaking smell it! Move that pickaxe! Move move!" He rolled up the piece of parchment and slapped the back of her head with it before walking on.
Dwayberry tightened the grip on the pickaxe and stopped momentarily, needing all self control to not turn around and attack the mine superintendent with it.
"Move I said!"
She brought the pickaxe down hard into the rock, sending a rather large splinter flying inches from her head.

[Dwayberry]

Dwayberry slowly rubbed her forehead. If she'd frown any more, she worried, it would stay visible on her forehead forever. Only one-and-a-half more days, then she'd collect her wages and her letter and never set a foot here again.
It was lunch time, and the miners working below ground had come up to join her and the others that had been working outside, under the shadow of a lone, large walnut tree. Dwayberry tried to increase the distance between her and a man that was slowly rocking his upper body to the music by a few inches, only to bump into the person sitting on the other side of her.
"Excuse...", she muttered and sighed long and softly, took another bite from her chicken leg and stared in the same direction as the others were staring. As soon as lunch time started, one of the women had retrieved a small harp from her bag and now she was singing a slow, sad ballad.

It's dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where danger is double and pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines
It's dark as a dungeon way down in the mines.*

Apart from the fact sad music was the last thing she needed to improve her mood, Dwayberry became increasingly annoyed and felt increasingly more uncomfortable every time she heard the chorus. And the fourth time, when the other mine workers started to sing along with voices of variable quality, she couldn't help herself.

"Oh... just shut it, will you?"

The man next to her nudged her not too friendly and brought a finger to his lips. "Shhh! Sing along or stuff it, lovy."

She snorted, then yelled: "Stop!!!"
They all stopped, abruptly, and stared at her.

"Why would you shout at Katelynn like that?", barked one of the men. "She is a skilled harpist, with a voice like a nightingale! We enjoy her music every day! And you, who are you even?!"

"She sells fish at the market...", came a voice from a larger distance.

"I think I saw her break temple windows!", another voice.

Dwayberry got to her feet, the annoyance combined with people going against her making her defiant, and crossed her arms. "I wonder what business skilled harpist nightingales have in mines... let alone dungeons."

"What is that supposed to mean!", the man who had indicated the woman as Katelynn got to his feet as well. He wasn't very tall, but had a strong build, and looked at Dwayberry with what he undoubtedly considered to be his fearsome look.

"I mean....", she said, rolling her eyes a little, "If she really were that good, she wouldn't be playing in a mine of all places. And that part about dungeons is really..."

"Are you insulting Katelynn's voice?", asked fearsome-man.

Dwayberry was secretly relieved for the interruption, for the main reason the song annoyed her was it reminded her of prison time. Little people knew about it, as she usually told them her memory loss was caused by an "accident". But she had spend almost two years in a dark, damp cell, all alone. Pleasures weren't few... pleasures were non-existent. The solitude had been the worst, and it had caused her to favour attention, any kind of attention, over being alone or ignored. Even this man, who looked at her as if he was about to attack, made her feel more alive, more part of the world. A small part of her, a voice that had been very slowly growing in strength after each fight she had gotten into after she got out of prison last winter, told her to stop now or things were going out of hand. The other, still much stronger part of her, however, challenged the little voice as much she challenged the man standing opposite from her. She was not scared of anything...

(*shamelessly borrowed from here)

[Dwayberry]

"You're not very bright, are you?", she smirked a little. "Should I have spelled it out for you? Or can you not read..."

The man sprang forward, fuming, but barely managed to hold himself back. He glanced at the other miners, as for reassurance. Some of them were showing signs of excitement at the prospect of a fight. Katelynn took a few steps backwards and held her harp protectively closer to her body.

"What...", she grinned. "Scared?"
No!
The voice of common sense was quickly surpassed by the growing excitement of doing something dangerous, mixed with the power she felt noticing the effects her words had on fearsome-man.
"Or is the nightingale not worthy of your protection? Just keep in mind... it might make her think higher of you than your... very original attempts at complimenting her musicality."

He leaped forward again. She pulled her dagger at the same time, swinging it dangerously close to his outstretched arms.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!", came a chant from the audience now.

Fearsome-man jumped back, out of reach, and eyed the dagger. He carried no weapons, but clearly didn't want to back down either. He seemed to be weighing his options as the audience egged them on. Dwayberry watched him, the anticipation working like a drug. She knew he would attack, the question was how long it would take him. Would the encouragement from the crowd suffice, or would she have to add to it a little herself?

"Come on...", her voice was a mere whisper, slowly drowned out by her opponent's low growling that steadily increased in volume.
She didn't need to wait long.
He charged at her, lashing out towards her face in a flurry of mine dust. She spun around, using he momentum to stab his upper arm. He roared in pain. His face turned red, his eyes seemed to shoot fire. He made a grab for her with a speed she underestimated. Before she could respond with another stab, she felt herself being lifted, and thrown. She hit the ground hard, and skidded several feet before coming to a halt. She didn't move for a short moment, until some feeling returned and she noticed gravel digging painfully into her skin. She pushed herself up slowly and coughed out some mine dust that had gotten into her mouth. Oblivious to the sudden silence from the other miners, she scanned the ground for her dagger.

There it was. And there it disappeared, underneath the large boot of the mine superintendent. Dwayberry bit her lip, common sense returning just a little too late to remind her of that small detail... She didn't bother thinking about how much he might have seen of the fight. He wouldn't take her side, she could be sure of that. Instead she got to her feet and calmly dusted off her clothes, before the mine superintendent strode towards her and grabbed her arm tightly.

"Stupid convict...", he hissed, though with a thread of amusement in his voice. "How badly do you need that letter for the judge?"

She stared at the ground, her answer a soft mutter. "Very badly..." Did she imagine it, or could she hear a soft sniggering coming from the group of miners?

"What? Speak up!", he didn't make an effort to hide his amusement any longer.

"Very badly... sir.", she said louder, feeling quite disgusted with herself. The sniggering was now a very distinct howling of laughter, which followed her as she was dragged off back to her work place.

"You'll get your little toothpick back when you're done.", he said. "And no lunch break tomorrow."

[Dwayberry]

The next day had been hellish. The mine superintendent had given her a too heavy pickaxe with a rough handle, and had watched her closely almost the entire day. It blistered her hands, and exhausted her quickly. She had to complain about dust and ask for water repeatedly before he had given her a rest to drink some. She had reminded herself continuously that this was still better than having to work below ground. And the letter, she needed the letter for proof.
After what seemed like an eternity, the mine superintendent had finally rang the bell to indicate the end of the work day. Dwayberry had lined up with the others for her wages, and the mine superintendent had dropped the coins into her blistered hands one by one, before finally giving her the much desired letter. She read it, and reread it to make sure it contained all information she needed, before walking off.



Once at a safe distance, she spun around. "Your handwriting is awful."
She bolted, as fast as possible after ten hours of mine work.

When she arrived home, she was too exhausted to bathe and just flopped down on the bed, immediately drifting off to sleep.