MadOne 3375 Share Posted January 6, 2022 THE TARCHARY TALES Written by Dietrich Lothar The Tarchary Tales are a series of short Haeseni stories written by Dietrich Barclay over a period spanning five years, edited into a collection. The stories are meant to be satirical in nature, and make commentaries on the various social and political aspects of Haeseni society and culture. Spearheading the tales is the character of the Tarcharman. Albeit not present in all stories, the Tarcharman is a general motif in many of them. He is written as a philosopher and wise man, who takes a central role in most of the short stories and anecdotes and solves situations through his wit and his satirical laid-back attitude. He is presented not as an individual, but as a symbol and a representative for the average citizen of Haense and the social classes that they belong to. He can be of wit, sometimes wise, sometimes a fool or even the butt of a joke, yet always seeks to teach something. Thus, a consistent theme in the Lotharian Tarcharman stories is that they are pedagogic in nature, and there are lessons to be learned. During a bitter winter's morn, Koeng Sigismund III decided to roam in disguise to survey the realm. Taking his Palatine, Eirik Baruch on his side, they began roaming the countryside. After an hour's ride, they spotted the old Tarcharman, who was working along the river. The Tarcharman held along many pelts and leathers, hunted from the Attenlund, was in the process of tanning them. The King, upon seeing the working man raised his hand, to greet the Tarchar. "Iv joveo maan, Greetings be, O' seno dylevar!" (Naumariav - "In the name of God, greetings be, O', old man!") the King would bellow, still in disguise. The Tarcharman retorted with a simple nod of his head. "Greetings be, mea Herzen Koeng." (Naumariav - "Greetings be, my Lord King.") While the Ayrian Eirik looked upon the discussing men, not understanding a word of Naumariav, the King Sigismund asked; "What did you do during the sixes?" The Tarcharman instantly replied. "If I do not add six to the sixes, it is not enough for the thirty-two." The King asked once more; "Did you not wake during the night?" and so the Tarcharman replied; "I woke, yet none for my field." To this, the King let out a mighty cackle at the gibberish, to Eirik's confusion, for he knew the man to be an Everardine stoic in nature. He spoke again. "If I send a duck upon you, would you pluck his pockets?" "Ai." The Tarcharman replied with a smile. "Without it even realising to make a sound." Thus, the King laughed and departed with the Palatine after speaking to the man. Sigismund turned towards the Duke. "Have you understood what we had said?" Eirik would shuffle his feet awkwardly, the Ayrian not understanding Naumariav properly. "No, my Koeng..." Sigismund would get irritated, his face turning red. "If you do not understand by this evening, I will take your head." The Palatine, with fear and worry would return thusly to the riverside after escorting the Koeng to his palace. Upon arriving, he saw that the Tarchar was still working his leather. "Tarcharman, what did you speak on with the Koenig?" The Tarcharman would examine the Palatine upon this question thoroughly, electing to answer; "My apologies, Lord, but I would only tell it upon you for a hundred Krawns." The Palatine delivered, handing the Tarcharman his Krawns. "You have greeted King Sigismund as 'Koeng', how could you tell that it be him, when he was in disguise?" "I am a leatherworker." The Tarchar replied. "The fur in his back could be worn by no other than a King." the Palatine Eirik scratched his head. "Alright, then what does 'if one does not add six to the sixes, it is not enough for thirty-two.' mean?" Eirik asked. The Tarcharman asked for a hundred Krawns more for the answer. "The Koeng asked me if I did not work during the six-month long summer-time, since he saw me working during winter. I replied to him, if I do not work during the winter, I cannot find enough food for my thirty-two teeth." The Palatine asked one more question. "What does 'not waking during the night' mean?" The Tarcharman got a hundred Krawns more. "He asked me if I had any children, yet all of them have married. So, I've said upon the King, they are not to till for my field, but for their own family." Eirik scratched his head. "What was all that about ducks?" The Tarchar laughed. "Find that out yourself." The Tarcharman, who fought with the cavalry regiment of the Brotherhood was famous for never losing a bet. He'd bet on a Savoyard being Haeseni, and still win his bet. One day, the Brotherhood would transfer the Tarchar from the cavalry to the infantry. Having to let Marshal Johann Barclay know of his transfer, the Tarcharman would wait outside of his office. Expecting the transfer, the Marshal asked an one of his soldiers; "Is the Tarcharman here?" The armsman nodded and let the Tarcharman inside the Marshal's office. After the necessary formalities in greeting and salutes were done, the Tarchar would say; "My Lord, I know you from somewhere!" The Marshal would look confused. "Impossible! I've never seen you in my life! I've never even heard of your name. Surely you mix me up with someone else?" "My Lord, I know you from the Scyfling War, we've fought along the same trench!" "Stop your nonesense, Tarcharman! I've not even fought during the Scyfling war! I was a child!" "My Lord, I remember it very vividly! You were in the next trench, and got an arrow shot at your backside! You were in so much pain, sire!" "Tarcharman, you are making me wroth, cease this rambling, for it is not true!" Johann bellowed towards the Tarchar. "My Lord, I would bet you twenty Krawns, that you have an arrow wound upon your backside." Upon hearing this challenge, the Lord Marshal Johann agreed on the bet on account of winning himself twenty Krawns, and would show Tarcharman his backside, wherein no wound could be seen. "My Lord, you were right. Indeed I have amde a mistake, and have mixed you up with someone." The Tarcharman lamented, an innocent smile forming upon his visage. "Things like this happen, Tarcharman, now fall back in line!" the Marshal proclaimed, happy to get his boon. And thus, the Tarcharman returned to his regiment happily, intent on collecting the fifty krawn bet he made with each soldier that he would see the backside of the Commandant. During a time wherein the Haeseni were under the Orenian Empire as her vassals, and Koeng Andrik reigned within the Prikaz, his palatine, Georg Alimar the Younger prided himself with a very adept lie-catcher. Whenever an Orenian delegate would arrive upon the doors of the Prikaz to say upon him honeyed words, and whenever a vassal would arrive upon his doors to promise of an incoming tax that was overdue, Georg could tell through their lies much to Andrik's delight. (for the Carrion Black skewed his perception, if it increased his popularity.) Frustrated with his ability to hold a real conversation for long, as he could always see through formalities and lies, Georg would decree to the realm; "Whoever could successfully lie to me shall get mounds of wealth bestowed upon them!" With this, the liars would form a horde upon the Palace gates, each seeking Georg's attention. One proclaimed; "I have seen a bird take a lion up to it's nest!" Georg seemed unfazed. "How is this a lie? Surely, the bird must be a falcon, and the lion a cub! Of course, it could take it up to the nest!" And thus, another liar tried to spin a lie to the Palatine. "The Kaedreni made a donkey their King!" The Palatine yawned once more, examining the fine lining of his hat. "Of course, whoever has the Crown would be King; surely the King, while looking upon a window dropped his crown, and it landed on the beast's head." A mighty archer now produced himself, going over to show a quiver to the Palatine. "Your Excellency, the arrow I have shot towards the sky flew up and landed six months later!" Yet even this archer could not grasp the attention of the Palatine, who could tell truth from a lie. "Surely your arrow landed instead on a tree - thusly after a season, not having enough leaves to cling on, it fell." And so, no man could convince Palatine Georg that they were lying, for Georg spun a logical story to every instance presented to him, until the Tarcharman found himself beneath the Prince's gaze. "Your Excellency, you have borrowed mounds of wealth from my father a while back. I've come to collect. If you say this be a lie, then give my wealth. If you say it is the truth, bestow me my reward." Once upon a time, a Duma was being held within the capital city of Haense, Reza. The Lords and representatives had gathered from all corners of the Kingdom at the behest of their King to discuss policy. This time, the Lord Palatine, Markus Kortrevich was taking the stand to answer questions from the representatives and his constituents as the agenda of the Duma at a time when the Lords protested his Captaincy of the Kingdom. Sigmar Baruch sould stand up to look towards the Palatine, clearing his throat. "If I may, Lord Palatine, I have three questions for you." He would say, disgruntled with the man's actions. "First of all, despite being very burnt out, how come you still hold onto two positions?" "Second of all, you have suspended our Duma in the name of stability. Why?" "Thirdly, where is that stability now?" Yet just as the man finished his questions, the bailiffs rang the bell, announcing the Duma to be adjourned, and the Palatine decreed that they would continue next session. Upon the coming of the next session, Markus would stand up and ask the representatives; "Where were we?" This time, Tribune Tarchar stood up. "You were going to answer our questions.." "Ah..yes..ask away!" the Palatine Markus retorted. "First of all, despite being very burnt out, how come you still hold onto two positions?" "Second of all, you have suspended our Duma in the name of stability. Why?" "Thirdly, where is that stability now?" "Why did the Duma get adjourned thirty minutes earlier than it was supposed to?" "Where did Sigmar go?!" The Tarchar, while visiting Helena in Oren, suddenly heard a very loud "BOOM!". Upon hearing this, he would jump in fear, and clutch his hat, looking around intently. When he spotted an Orenian merchant, he skittishly would ask; "What are these noises?!" The merchant looked up from his work to answer the Tarchar. "The ISA are shooting cannons for Empress Anne." he'd answer. The Tarchar, satisfied with the answer continued about his travels within the city, only to hear another "BOOM!" "Damnings of these Imperial Armies! Could not even shootings of a hag right!" One day, while Count of Metterden, Konstantin administered his realm, he grew very bored - an ailment that he would suffer periodically. Thus he decided to hire a fool, opting to pick the Tarcharman among his canditates as his jester. Summoning the Tarchar, the Count asked; "Fool, I am very bored, and this work ails me. I want you to commit a fault upon me, but have your apology be worse than the fault." And the Tarcharman would get to work in the next days, shadowing the bored Lord. Suddenly, the Tarchar would approach Lord Ruthern from behind, only to give a slap on the man's backside. Lord Ruthern turned to the Tarchar with anger at this. "What is the meaning of this?!" And the Tarcharman had his answer ready. "Many apologies, my Lord! I thought you were the Countess!" High Pontiff James asked upon the Tarchar; "What is more important, nature or nurture?" The Tarcharman, without a doubt would answer quickly; "Nurture is more important, Your Holiness." And at this answer, James sent news upon the realms that he would give great blessings and rewards upon the best tamer of animals. A great nurturer and tamer of animals would present himself before the Pontificial throne, to whom James asked this question - "How quickly could you teach a cat to serve food on a platter?" "Six months, Your Holiness!" After six months, the tamer brought forward a cat, and James asked upon him; "Have you taught it?" "I have, Your Holiness!" And thus, all the Ecclesiarchy gathered in the Holy See to witness the cat, who served to them drinks, refreshments and snacks, much to their surprise. James, upon seeing the cat serve food looked upon the Tarchar once more. "Tell me, O, Tarchar, what is more important, nature or nurture?" The Tarcharman promptly reached into his hat, anticipating the question. What would emerge from the hat was a mouse, kept ready for the question. He placed the mouse on the ground. Seeing this, the cat would turn Banardian and do away with the platter, scattering food upon the faces of the clergymen. It would let out a great bellow, and ran after the mouse in circles the Holy See. The Tarcharman smiled and answered the Pontiff's question. "Nurturing is more important, Your Holiness. As you could see, the cat turns into primacy the moment he sees a mouse. There are men in this world, just like the tomcat, who, upon seeing opportunity would sell away their religions, their countries and their honour only for a promise of temporal reward, may the Lord keep us from them." One day, a Boyar and a Knight of notable families started to feud, comparing lands, soldiers, relatives and their power. One said upon the other "Ea am greater than vy!" The Knight scoffed with impunity at this challenge. "Niet! ea am much greater than vy!" He retorted with a louder voice. The Lord Speaker, and the Aldermen, growing tired of this debate raging on within the Duma would proclaim; "You two Lords are to solve this problem civilly, and upon that time, do not return!" Thus the Boyar and the Knight would agree, and proclaim the first man that they would talk to, would be the answer which of them was the greatest. The men rode out towards the Attenlund, expecting Morovarian brigades, yet the first man that they would spot would be the Tarcharman, herding his sheep. The Boyar, looking towards the Knight spat on the ground and asked the Tarchar; "Is your sheep greater, or your cow?" he would say, pointing between himself and his rival. The Tarchar, not understanding the metaphor shugged indifferently. "The cow is greater." The Knight, infuriated by being called a sheep motioned to himself, and then his rival. "Is your bull greater, or your cow?" The analogy was lost on the Tarchar again. "The Bull." Thus, the Lords looked upon each other, and asked the herder a last question. "Is a Knight greater, or a Boyar?" The Tarchar picked his nose. "Ea never hearings of such animals!" The Tarcharman leaned against a wall in the main square, letting the fishing rod upon his hand dangle down on the pavement. A passerby laughed at the Tarchar and asked him - "Managed to catch many fish, Tarchar?" The Tarchar nodded. "Da, it's in the bait." Bralt the Boar amassed his armada to attack Vasiland, and gazed upon the pathway of his ships making headway to the shores of Wickwald. He was about to go to battle with Sigismund II's fleet. Prepared with a magnificent fleet made up of twenty war-ships, Bralt was confident in his sailing. With his hands on his chest, Bralt stood on the bow of the foremost ship like a mighty statue. Right behind him, his lieutenants stood, spying and waiting for the Haeseni fleet. One of them suddenly shouted; "Bralt, we've spotted three ships of the Haeseni fleet!" Bralt turned back with a smile. "Bring me my red shirt, so that Sigismund may not see me bleed if I get a wound." He promptly wore his shirt, and resumed his position. The same lieutenant would suddenly shout once more; "Bralt, we've spotted fifty more ships behind the initial three!!" Bralt would turn to his lieutenants to mumble lightly. "Bring me my brown trousers..." The Tarcharman was living within the castle of a well-known Boyar, who was strikingly ugly. Ladies would turn their heads at his sight, and mothers would scare their children into sleep with the tales of the ugly Boyar coming to marry them in the future. One day, the Boyar would decide to shave, so the servants handed him a mirror to see where he was shaving. Yet, upon setting gaze on his visage, the Boyar would start crying. Along with the Boyar, the Tarcharman too, started shedding tears. The courtiers would eventually manage to cheer the Boyar up, yet the Tarcharman bellowed and bellowed. The Boyar asked him, "Why do you cry, Tarchar? It is not you who is ugly, for it is me." The Tarchar gazed up towards the Boyar through his teary eyes and quivering lips, replying promptly. "You have cried because you took one gaze at yourself, I cry for I gaze upon you every day." SIGNED BY 24 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
GoodGuyMatt 7060 Share Posted January 7, 2022 Hieromonk Ernst smiles at his son's writings, reading them idly in his monastic cell during his free time. 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Frymark 2792 Share Posted January 7, 2022 Johann Barclay snorted at the paper, before beginning to frown and wonder.. 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
GMRO 5248 Share Posted January 7, 2022 Karl Sigmar after having read the tales of the Tarcharman set off upon his path to the Duchy of Reinmar to consult with a man so wise beyond his years, in tow he brought with him a fishing rod and a copy of the Tarchary tales. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
garentoft 8352 Share Posted January 7, 2022 Eirik Baruch wonders where Sigmar truly did go... 7 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
DahStalker 2843 Share Posted January 7, 2022 Her lips found themselves laced into a comforted smile upon reading the context of a specific story after flipping through majority of said book in absolute boredom. Obligated to find something to do in that lonesome evening she found herself bound to that book within the new imports for the NGS and thus discovered this gem. Nature it was called - the story in regards of an aged lover - gone from this realm. And thus, with all the selfishness in the world she tore that story from the confines of its home right at the spine and folded it away into the depths of her coat. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
LithiumSedai 4835 Share Posted January 7, 2022 Ulrich Lothar patted down his pockets after returning from Haense to celebrate Ottomas at his keep, wary that he had accidentally and unwittingly let some Tarcharman swipe his Kronen! 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Drew2_dude 2130 Share Posted January 7, 2022 Sigmar Baruch’s ears singed sensing the mention of his name, he’d shrug off the feeling returning to telling his kin stories of the good ole days as he drowned himself in Carrion Black in the seven skies. “let me tell ye all abou’ this piece o’ work Markus Kortrevich…” 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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