[Arvedui III]

It was almost impossible to comprehend how one could feel so cold in the presence of so much light, but apparently in Umbar, one could.

Telson worried that the look of disgust he was now accustomed to wearing on his face would become a permeant fixture as he sat against the outside wall of a tavern whose name he couldn't remember. Drifting like an ill wind, smoke from small fires on the street brushed against the hood of his cloak, teasing his eyes and nose. However, that was not what bothered him the most. Granted, his rather stormy feeling had something to do with the government of Umbar, mainly the ambassador, but that was not the only thing. Telson tried to look at the day's events from a detached and logical point of view, a soldier thought with his mind, not his heart, but somehow his anger kept getting the way.

The one spark of hope he had, were the four he'd met after murdering the glass; And the fact that only a stable boy, an attache, a nobleman's son, and a highborn daughter were the last truly loyal subjects willing to fight for Umbar was not a greatly encouraging thought. None of them, save perhaps the Calnan boy, held a military mind, although the group was certainly cunning. Telson's own strategic acumen fell miserably short after battlefield tactics. And if Doran made the first move, they were sunk. The main problem with his four young allies was that they were unduly trustful for such times, not in the way that they would accept candy from a stranger, but Telson got the impression that they all expected to live through whatever was about to happen on the isle. They were on the side of good, and because good must triumph over evil so they thought they would triumph over Doran and come out of it unscathed. Sadly, Telson knew that war never dealt in such certainties.

And after staring unseeingly at a moldy dustbin for an hour, one thing was terribly clear: Despite the heart of his four new friends, they were in dire need of some allies, and maybe an army to go with them. And, wishing for allies would not bring them here. Well then, two things were terribly clear but Telson supposed that the second disparaging thought came with the first.

The moldy dustbin could no longer hold his interest. Rising onto shaking feet and grunting in dismay to find them asleep, Telson began walking to where he knew not without a purpose, but itching to do something useful. The rational part of his mind chided him, saying that Adeline, now the up-and-coming spy, would have information soon, and only with information could he act. However, usually when his rational mind argued for waiting, Telson tended toward ignoring it and doing something stupid instead. Such was the price for arrogance, he supposed, and he'd pay it willingly. As he meandered, Telson's hand went without bidding to an almost crumpled piece of paper stuck rather haphazardly into his belt. The first draft of that damnable report which had brought him to this accused isle in the first place. Quite suddenly, an idea pricked at him like the paper cut that was now stinging with a vengeance, and Telson turned his path toward the low districts and possibly, reenforcements.
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The Low Tide Inn was unnaturally dark, and the sight disturbed Telson more than he imagined it ever would. However, he could see candles burning toward the back of the building and that was slightly heartening. Telson crouched low, making sure his shadow did not linger in plain sight, and waited. Fortunately, he did not have to pause long, and drew a sharp breath as a figure walked toward him and the outhouse. Even better, it was not the tattooed bartender, but a form Telson could more readily take down. Shaking quietly, Telson figured it was better to let the boy do his business before Telson got to his. He had new cloths on, after all. Far too soon for his liking, the boy reemerged and began walking, no, walking wasn't the word, stumbling back toward the candle-lit room.

One...Two....Three

In one deft movement, Telson drew his swords, hurled the boy into a corner, and held his right blade to the figure's throat while making sure the boy could see the dirk in his other hand. "‘Lo, Culous. Been a while, my friend." He said in an edged voice that would have been pleasant in the daylight. "I swear!" The boy yelled desperately, raising his hands as if to ward Telson off. "I'm loyal! I swear it!" Telson chuckled, but did move. "To whom, I wonder? To whoever holds the blade? Regardless, I am unconcerned with your loyalties, boy, so long as your allegiance is to the coin that I used last time and nothing higher." Telson hinted, a rising note of danger in his voice. "Stewardsman?" The boy asked incredulously. Telson shook his head in amusement, partly at the boy's voice and partly at the nickname.

"Aye, I'm Stewardsman as you seem to like calling me. It grieves me to see you fall on such times, Culous. So, I have another job for you if you're willing." "If I'm not?" The boy prodded gingerly. "Then I'll kill you and get someone who's not as good." Telson shrugged, hoping he sounded nonchalant. "Then I'm your man, sir." Culous answered in a considerably higher voice. Telson smiled, and withdrew his sword. "Good, I thought you might be. Tell me boy, have you ever been to Gondor?"
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After a tense half hour spent explaining and re-explaining to the innkeeper's son, Telson took a clean sheet of parchment and scribbled quickly, not bothering to think about the wording. After he was finished, Telson handed the message and the instruction sheet he had written to Culous, watching the boy bound off into the night, and praying to whatever gods there were that he would not fail.

To Prince Faramir of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor,

My lord, at your request, herein is the report ordered to judge Umbar's readiness and capacity to aid the Reunited Kingdom in time of war: Umbar is unfit to produce any aid during time of war and is in danger of falling out of Gondorian control. A former corsair captain turned councilman, Jytharo Doran, plots to take the isle for himself. While at the moment, his means and methods are unclear, the general population of Umbar is in unrest due to a number of preemptive unlawful measures set in place by the Umbarian government. The garrison at Umbar is either unsure or unable quell the hostilities that are turning into open revolt.

Furthermore, the Umbarian government seems, after observation, unwilling to see the error of their ways. Possible traitors to the crown roam the streets and both Gondorian and Umbarian deaths have resulted from that fact. Under these circumstances, the ability to hold Umbar as an ally of the Reunited Kingdom becomes uncertain. Respectfully, I believe that a further garrison is required to stem the rebellion before it manifests itself fully, and also an occupation of Umbar until the men behind it can be brought to justice. I shall continue to monitor the situation and do what I can to prevent further violence.

Your obedient servant,
Telson son of Telemar. Lieutenant of the White Company.