Reynaldus Background

From Ars Magica

It's hard to say what people notice first about Reynard Atwood. Men often note his diminuative stature and beardless chin, especially if they are sizing up the traveler before deciding he's too small to be a threat, but women are another matter. They are far more likely to notice his charmingly mischievous smile, his bright green eyes, or his shockingly red hair, redder even than the little wool cap that sits jauntily above it. Those of a mercantile bent are first to notice that Reynard's tunics and boots are plain and practical, sturdy but road-worn, yet his jewelry suggests the nobility, or more likely noble patrons inclined to grant generous largesse. Even so, the wanderer's ever-present smile outshines the ornaments.

None can be quite sure why Reynard smiles so much. Perhaps it's that he knows most men haven't noticed the way their women are looking at him. Perhaps it's because he genuinely enjoys the company of every person he meets. Perhaps it's because of his unshakable faith that things will turn out all right in the end. Perhaps he's plotting something. Or perhaps he's simply happy.

Those wondering about Reynard's profession don't wonder long; even before he draws his harp or rebec from their cases, anyone can spot that Reynard is a bard. The very astute might observe that his hands are not a laborer's; only the tips of his long fingers are callused. But few have a chance to notice his hands before his voice gives him away. Surprisingly deep and resonant to issue from a chest so small, his words sound musical even when he asks the most mundane of questions. His stance, feet firmly apart, arms spread under a well-worn but once ornate cloak demands attention from all present. Many, upon meeting him for the first time, mention they'd thought he would be taller, yet as soon as he unleashes his voice in the half-light of an evening's fire, his presence towers, filling listeners with a sense that he is as big as the great hall itself.

Of course, a mage's attention is drawn to details a mere mortal would miss, and so it is when a follower of Hermes meets Reynard: the first detail noted is the little badge of office embroidered into the brim of his rakish red cap. Magi are invariably quick to ask him for news of other covenants, to inquire about any missives that might be addressed to them, or to request that he tarry while they compose correspondence. Few give much thought to how carefully he reads their expressions when they receive his deliveries, to what information he can gather from noting to whom they address their missives, yet Reynard's master, William, taught him to guess a letter's contents without ever cracking the seal. As William was fond of saying,ﾂ "Knowledge is power, and knowledge of the powerful doubly so." The old Redcap always stressed that knowledge must be used for the good of the Order, not for merely selfish or destructive ends. "We serve the magi, 'tis true," William used to say, "but a good servant guards his master 'gainst vain folly."

So behind that rakish smile, even as those he meets are distracted by songs or letters, Reynard watches them, cataloguing details and filing inferences for later use, and that is the one thing that few, if any, people ever notice about Reynard Atwood.