Lucky has been directed to Pook and Pook Antiques. A delightful store in Fort Brunsett that has been a staple for some twenty or thirty years. Who really knows. Once inside, Lucky finds something quaint and warm. The lights are low, and many of those lights are the actual lamps that are being sold. But Lucky won't have time to shop, becuase as soon as the man enters, he's directed by a nice shop keep through the store and to the back.
The back room is seperated by a door, which the shop keep closes behind Lucky. It is a combination sitting room and break room, with a small kitchenette, a few comfortable chairs, and then a kitchen table. It is there, at the table, that Reginal Pook sits, waiting for the man that has been sent to see him. Pook wears pants and a vest, both in a pale blue, and then a shirt, in pale yellow. It is all pastel, yet all so very bold. "Please, come in, come in," the Spring Queen says as Lucky enters. The crown on Pook's head - blossoming flowers - is enough to show so very clearly that he is, indeed, the Monarch.
Lucky gives a polite nod to the Monarch as he takes a seat across from the man. "So," he tells Pook. "I should just go ahead and say that I'm not very familiar with the etiquette here, so... try to bear with me in case I screw up?" He offers Pook the best smile he can manage. "Not often that we're getting invited to meet a Monarch instead of being told to stay the hell away from them. Not used to being on this side of the table." Still, he offers a hand to Pook. "Judge Lucky Donovan, Majesty. Thanks for seeing me."
"Well, to start, one normally waits until they are offered a seat. Or they ask for one," Pook says, but the older man's smile is warm and friendly. "Please, just relax. I'm not very stuffy, despite, well..." He gives a little flourish of the hand. It is an antique store. There's a quick nod, and then Pook reaches out, to take Lucky's hand, and give a delicate shake. "Reginald Pook, Spring Monarch, as you know," he says, and then withdraws his hand. "Is Judge your first name, or is that a title?" he asks. Then a glance to the table. "Tea?" There is, of course, a tea pot and all the things needed for a proper cup there, on the table.
"It's a Title," Lucky tells Pook in return. "Someone told me I should actually start using it. Personally, I think it makes me sound like kind of an ass, but apparently it's good form to include it?" He's definitely green when it comes to traditions and formality, it would seem. "And yeah, sure. Tea sounds nice." His tone is at least polite, even if he's not entirely sure what to say, or do. He doesn't seem especially nervous, just unsure of himself.
"Understood," Pook says, with a small nod. "Would have been nice to have you around a few weeks back," he asides, as he pivots at the waist to grab up the tea pot. He pours it out, into two cups. "You can help yourself to milk and sugar, if you take either," he says, then proceeds to take both himself. Milk, sugar, and then he sets to quietly stirring. "Now, you've already met with my Waykeepers. They've forwarded you to me. It's just a few questions, and then, with luck, all will be well," he says, with a grin. Surely that mention of 'luck' wasn't accidental. "First and foremost, what brings you to small town Vermont?"
Lucky nods. "Heard about that business with Oberon," he tells the man. "Probably best that you were the one making the decision. I might not have been quite as lenient. It was a clever punishment, though. Fitting, fair. I respect it." He doesn't take anything in his tea, picking up the cup and taking a sip while he listens to Pook's questions. At the first, he reaches into a pocket, pulling out a grainy picture of a woman that the Monarch might recognize as Luna Janus, though a few years younger. "We heard there was a new Freehold starting, so they sent a Judge ahead. She hasn't been heard from in a minute, so they sent me. No word on her yet," he tells Pook, "but I'm still looking. In the meantime, the place seems cozy enough. Might as well stick around, help out where I can."
Pook gives a gracious dip of his head, when Lucky finds his chosen punishment acceptable. For all he's the Queen, the appreciation is sincere. He then glances aside, at the picture, and there's a faint nod, and it's followed by a purse of his lips, as he considers. "I know the woman, yes," he confirms. His eyes shift back to Lucky. "So, you were sent. Well. That is a lovely bit of news. My last few meetings have not been... so easy," he decides. There's a moment's consideration, and then a nod. "Right, so... I normally ask what you can bring to Fate's Harvest, but that seems obvious. Is there anything you might like me to know, beyond your membership in the Adjudicators?" he asks. "That is, anything you will be offering to the Freehold?"
"If you're in a pinch, and need the tables turned in your favor, I'm pretty good at that," Lucky tells the man in turn. "Or if you just need some heads cracked, I'm a decent hand at that too, in a pinch, but it's messy. Inelegant. Not really my go-to. But if push comes to shove, I'm pretty good at shoving. I can put on a decent magic act, too, if you get bored. And I'm a fair hand at making sure that strategic individuals 'lose' things that might be of interest, if there's a good reason they shouldn't have them. Is there something you're looking for in particular? I might be able to help."
"Oh, my, that is quite the CV," Pook says, with a warm smile. "And I do love a card trick," he admits, with only a hint of shame. There's a deep breath in, then out, and a shake of his head. "No, nothing we need more than anything else," he says. Then a pause. "Well, in truth, we need Waykeepers. If that interests you at all... I believe you'll need to speak to Nathania. Ava seems to have been rather occupied, of late," he muses for a moment. Then a wave of his hand. "I am sure you will fit in well, and contribute." He pauses, to sip his tea, then looks back to the man. "Next question. Have you any trouble that you are bringing with you? Anything that you have reason to believe will follow you here?"
"Other than being the escaped slave of a mad and powerful godlike being?" Lucky has to chuckle at that. "We all have trouble out there, somewhere, waiting to catch up to us. So far as I'm aware, nothing is hot on my heels at the moment. If that changes, I'll let you know. But I've been going a few years without too much in the way of Big Trouble, so I think I'm relatively on the safe side. As far as Waykeepers go," he says, "I'm not sure I'd be as good as Paige. But I'm pretty sure I'd be better than Oberon. So, fair to middling. I can throw in a hand being the welcoming committee, though. They might not come back from the meeting completely -sober-, ut they'll come back in one piece and feeling wanted."
"Besides that, Lucky," Pook says, but it's not without a hint of mirth in his eyes and amusement on his lips. He then continues to listen, and it all definitely seems a great relief. Not that he was tense at all, but the sigh he releases suggests, somehow, he might have been. Probably just theatrics. "Well, that is all very good news," he says. "All very good. So... we just need you to state the pledge," he says. "If you are ready to." And pook reaches aside, to grab a leather folder. It's opened, and a few pages are produced. "The peldge is here. The rules and by-laws are here," he says, as he hands them over.
Lucky looks them over, curious. Reading through, he says, "Seems straightforward. Alright." He clears his throat, reciting, "I pledge my time, my talents and my fealty to Fate's Harvest. I swear that I no longer serve the Fae, nor will I while this promise stands; that while I am under its protection I will obey the principles and bylaws of the Fate's Harvest Freehold as ratified by Monarch and Council, in return for the support and safety they provide. May I perish in exile, should I be forsworn."
Pook waits with all the patience of a man in his own chair, sipping tea. He could go all night, so long as there is tea in the pot! But soon enough, Lucky moves on to the pledge itself, and that's when the Wyrd begins to seal his words. A breeze picks up in the room, chilly and wet, yet promising warmth when it stills. The smell of wet earth and fresh growth fills the nostrils. All the while, the Spring Queen sits up a little straighter, with a smile on his lips. When he words are finished, there's a crackle of energy in the air, and then it all fades away, as if it never was. "Welcome to Fate's Harvest, Lucky."
"Thank you, Majesty," he tells the Queen in turn. He finishes his tea, passing the folder back to the Monarch. "I think it's gonna be... interesting. Hopefully, in the good way."
"I will hope and pray for boring, Lucky. But if it is interesting, let it be in the good way," Pook says, with a dip of his head. "Until then, please, go and enjoy this city, and all the Freehold has to offer. Contact me if you need anything. I'll be sending over a list of names soon enough - the leaders of our various little groups, the court councillors, all of that."
Lucky nods, standing up as he sets the cup aside. "And if you need anything from me, just send for me. I'll help as best I can." He gives a little bow at the waist to the Monarch, moving to see himself out, since the Monarch seems to have given his permission to go.
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