: Luck in the Shadows :
Mar. 8th, 2026 06:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unputdownable posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
gremlinhausSome nameless Inn, some nameless town.
This is an origin story if ever there was one, for all great partnerships have a definite and decided beginning and this is one such.
Jhude had been on the trail of a nobleman who had been hellbent on marrying his daughter to a highly abusive peer; it was a coaching inn on the way to one of the three major metropolis; now he'd read reports that the man on the gifted end of the bride stick had been a widower thrice times over which.. to Jhude, was a bit suspicious.
It had taken quite a bit of researcher, and he wasn't a born researcher by any stretch-- but it did not take an idiot to put two and two together and he was not an idiot; it also meant that the ladies life was hanging on a knife's point. Not now, but perhaps later-- and Jhude was enough of a bleeding heart that he could not countenance this whatsoever.
No one deserved it.
So he was in the posting house, keeping to the shadows, watching the lady and her father in question. Oh, but she looked miserable, and he looked smug. Tonight was the perfect time to act, the posting house was crowded and if there was anything that he could do, it was to perhaps sneak her out, give her a bag of gold to settle comfortably, give her the name of someone within the church who could provide her aid if needed and she'd have freedom to live her life and perhaps marry someone of her choosing.
He was sitting at a table with his hood pulled over his head, nursing a tankard of ale as he watched and listened; ever so close to the table so that he could pick up their words, their routine. Any sort of information that would make this entire process easier.
This is an origin story if ever there was one, for all great partnerships have a definite and decided beginning and this is one such.
Jhude had been on the trail of a nobleman who had been hellbent on marrying his daughter to a highly abusive peer; it was a coaching inn on the way to one of the three major metropolis; now he'd read reports that the man on the gifted end of the bride stick had been a widower thrice times over which.. to Jhude, was a bit suspicious.
It had taken quite a bit of researcher, and he wasn't a born researcher by any stretch-- but it did not take an idiot to put two and two together and he was not an idiot; it also meant that the ladies life was hanging on a knife's point. Not now, but perhaps later-- and Jhude was enough of a bleeding heart that he could not countenance this whatsoever.
No one deserved it.
So he was in the posting house, keeping to the shadows, watching the lady and her father in question. Oh, but she looked miserable, and he looked smug. Tonight was the perfect time to act, the posting house was crowded and if there was anything that he could do, it was to perhaps sneak her out, give her a bag of gold to settle comfortably, give her the name of someone within the church who could provide her aid if needed and she'd have freedom to live her life and perhaps marry someone of her choosing.
He was sitting at a table with his hood pulled over his head, nursing a tankard of ale as he watched and listened; ever so close to the table so that he could pick up their words, their routine. Any sort of information that would make this entire process easier.
