Father Bento’s circus has spent the past week in Perrinvale, in the north of Cambria. Perrinvale was long the holding of the noble Perrin family, but the last Lord Perrin was a vocal opponent of Lord Protector Davant. As his outbursts against the crown continued, Lord Davant convicted him of treason, fearing that he might otherwise rise in armed rebellion. A dispatch of royal soldiers came to arrest him, and Lord Randyll Perrin was reported dead in the skirmish. Perrinvale is now governed by a mayor, appointed by the crown, and Castle Perrin houses a small contingent of royal soldiers. Still, Perrinvale is the second most prosperous town in Cambria, behind only the capital itself, so the circus does well here.
Currently, the circus is made of 9 acts; the Fabulous Fitzroy the Magician, and Darvin, who performs little tricks on the side; the sword fighters, Rollo, wearing the patchwork look of a merceneary, and Calista, with the polished armor of a soldier; Remy and Sabine, the acrobats; Torvald the lion tamer and keeper of exotic animals; the wrestlers, Boris the Brute and Kendrick the Quick; Stasia, the fortune teller; Patrice and Crispin, the jugglers; Emrys, the minstrel, and Luma, another minstrel, newer to the circus; and a fairly new knife thrower, Evora. Along with the performers and Father Bento himself, there is his right hand man, and apparent bodyguard, Marek, and Megyn, a young lass of about eleven, whom Father Bento is tutoring, and three laborers, Ben and Sven, and the newest, the diminutive Othrin. Sven also doubles as the circus chef, known for a meatballs and gravy dish, though no one has ever really dared to question what qualifies as the “meat”.
Despite the comfortable pickings in Perrinvale, Father Bento has decided to move on, keeping the circus in motion, as it usually is. The wagons were packed, and this morning, they made their way east along the North road, leading to Lumberton. This is a back road of the kingdom, both less traveled and less maintained then the main road running to the capital. Tales in the local taverns of Perrinvale spoke of a “Witch of the Wilds” dwelling in the woods to the north, though she has apparently vanished, as no one has reported seeing her in several years. Perhaps she was always just a tall tale. So, the road feels as safe as any other.
The day’s travel eventually turns to night, and the wagons grope almost blindly along the path. There is an inn not too far ahead. Even though it is too small to offer beds to the whole circus, everyone looks forward to stopping and resting for the night, even in the wagons.
iggysden 