Aydan sighs to himself, Winter Wolves. Of course they were. "Aye, My Lord." He quickly recomposes himself and addresses Lord Ranulf with a small bow. The honest truth was that, while the feeling may not be entirely mutual, Aydan had always liked Lord Ranulf. The man stood by his word and had always been a good friend and a veritable rock to Baron Redwyrm, it was a quality Aydan admired, though he was probably loathe to admit it any time he got his hand caught in the proverbial pantry around the man.
"More concerns, I suppose. Clarius and I tracked the trail back as far as we could being prepared for a proper ranging. From what I can tell, a pair or more of Winter Wolves drove the Old Boar down from the Fog's Peak and south. And judging the devastation that the Boar caused to the Wolves, I would recommend sending riders to check on the Farmlands in that area. If he ran through the wrong field, the damage Bloodbristle could have done would be severe."
Aydan's eyes lose focus, almost as if he's looking in on himself, back at the memories from earlier today, "Still... its these wolves that worry me my lord. If they were hunting down Bloodbristle, they would have had a number of opotunities. the lands between Frostward and Dwarf's bridge are far more suited to paw than hoof, and then there is that once we engaged Bloodbristle, the hid and watched. They didn't challenge for the right to their prey... didn't decide to go find something better. Lastly, as crazy as it sounds, I think one of them spoke to me." At that he looks back to Lord Ranulf with a self-deprecating smile, "I swear M'Lord I've had none of the wine yet."
the levity leaving his features, he states his worry plainly, "I don't think those Wolves were trying to kill Bloodbristle, I think that they were driving him towards the villages on purpose."
Aydan runs a hand through his hair at the many implications of what he just said could mean, "My Lord... if you and the Baron wish it, I can be supplied and ready to leave within an hour."
Lady Rebecca's room...
'I spoke out of turn,' Lady Rebecca snaps back angrily, 'and it was wrong of me. You mustn't say such vile things about the Baroness... she's a good woman, not to mention your Mistress, Beatrix. Now, please go... leave me for a while...'
Beatrix rises from the tub and shakes off the rivulets of water clinging to her skin. Grabbing a towel from beside the tub, she wraps it around herself as she steps out onto the cold stone floor.
'The truth is important Rebecca, the truth is what it is. I know the truth hurts people, but I tell you because I trust you Rebecca, and I love you.' Beatrix shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. She sniffs and wipes her eyes before turning back to her Lady with an iron gaze. 'I can't stand the though of anyone hurting you, for any reason. The Baroness is a good woman and means well, but she isn't blood Rebecca, she isn't blood.'
Beatrix picks up her discarded clothes as she walks to the door. Stepping out into the corridor, she turns one last time. 'The emerald dress will bring out your eyes, and make sure to stop by the garden on your way down; a white rose in your hair will drive all the boys mad. Everyone needs to look their best on their birthday.'
|
The Great Hall...
"... Viscount, have you ever had the pleasure of testing your metal against this man?"
'I'm not sure that "pleasure" is the right turn of phrase when talking about Philipe,' Viscount Thevia replies, taking another long drink, 'the man's something of a ruthless bastard in competition. Not that I'd begrudge him his wins, of course, but it takes a certain kind of man to ride high through all the tournaments of Taldor, yet never serve a Liege, or the Realm, in real combat. I would like to see him taken down a peg or two, mind... that would be entertainment indeed!'
A short distance away...
'I'm sorry, milady. I did not mean to stir up memories of sad times for you. I am a boor to have upset you. I spend too much time away from the pleasantries of a court... and beautiful ladies.'
'Do not concern yourself with my... weakness of character, Sir Clarius,' Lady Ailith replies, a little formally, 'It has been many years since disaster befell my family, and truth be told I've lived many more years in Thevia as the blind ward to two kindly Viscounts than I ever did as the daughter of the Lord of the Frostward. The past is done, we should all look to the future.' Stepping a little closer to Clarius, Ailith manages to smile again, and asks, 'What of your future, my fine flattering knight? You seek lands of your own from Baron Otto's hand? Or does the prospect of managing land and passing judgement over local disputes of field boundries and ale prices fill your free-ranging soul with mortal dread? Maybe you strive to win your fortune at the tilt, like many others here... although from the report of this morning's actions - recounted by my Lord Thevia in tedious detail - I dare say you've a ways to go in the art of staying in the saddle!' she laughs her light laugh once more as she gently teases Clarius, then adds, 'Or mayhap it's the hand of the Lady Rebecca you seek? Though, thinking back on Lord Thevia's long-winded accounting, I recall that his description of the Lady suggested that it may be more than her mere hand that men may find attractive...'
In a quiet corner of the Hall...
"... I would recommend sending riders to check on the Farmlands in that area. If he ran through the wrong field, the damage Bloodbristle could have done would be severe."
'Too late for that tonight,' Sir Ranulf replies, matter-of-factly, 'little point in sending riders to stumble around in the dark. I'll issue orders for men to ride out at first light.'
"... Lastly, as crazy as it sounds, I think one of them spoke to me... I swear M'Lord I've had none of the wine yet."
'Hah!' Sir Ranulf snorts, 'such things hardly require Cayden's brew. There have long been sightings of winter wolves in the Frostward - that they speak like men is well known... although their minds are those of the predators they are. Be careful with these wolves, lad, if you encounter them again - they're powerful and dangerous foes, all the more so for their intelligence. The best advice I can offer is that they seem to fear flame - it burns them horribly, even more so than most creatures.'
"I don't think those Wolves were trying to kill Bloodbristle, I think that they were driving him towards the villages on purpose."
Sir Ranulf strokes a hand down his long moustache as he contemplates Aydan's words,
'A purpose,' he agrees, 'but what purpose? Despite their ability to think and speak, the winter wolves are still animals, still predators. That they'd be interested in anything other than their next meal is a mystery... and the Old Man must have been a tempting kill indeed - enough to feast on for weeks. Such beasts have been known to ally with the frost giants of the Fog Peaks, though the giants themselves rarely seem to look beyond the next raid. No, if what you say is true then there's some larger strategy we're yet lacking the vantage to see.'
"My Lord... if you and the Baron wish it, I can be supplied and ready to leave within an hour."
'Hmmm?' Sir Ranulf glances up from his own deep musings, then finally grins. Slapping Aydan on the back he replies, 'Whilst sending you out to suffer the tender mercies of a pair of brutal winter wolves in the dead of night may serve to save the virtues of some maiden or two tonight, Lady Rebecca would never forgive you for abandoning her during her time of need... or me for sending you! I know the girl well enough to realise that she's her father's daughter - that this sort of... of pagantry... is foreign to her way of doing things, and that she'll be looking to the support of her true friends to help bolster her resolve to deal with the sham and intrigue of courtly life.'
Slipping through the crowds of guests with a polite word of greeting and a smile here and there, the Baroness Hilda approaches Brendan. Glancing around to make sure they're, for the moment, alone, she hands him a roll of parchment as she speaks quietly,
'Holy Father, I wonder if you could help with a... situation...' she glances towards the Lady Melisende, then turns back to Brendan, 'you'll see that the parchment bears the Imperial Seal - a directive from the office of the Grand Prince to show hospitality to our Cheliaxian... "guest"...' she gives a slight involuntary shudder, then presses on, 'Reading a little between the lines, it seems the Lady ambassador voiced an interest in Taldan tournaments, and the powers-that-be at court leapt at the chance to be rid of her for a few days... by sending her to us. For all that I'd like to see the devil-worshipping harlot thrown to the tender mercies of a crowd of Taldan serfs, such is not the Imperial will... I'd like you to escort her, please, Father Brendan. I've no idea what Hell-spawned powers such a creature may possess, and I'll feel more comfortable with you as her guide during her time here than I would assigning one less devoted to the true gods.' Sighing, Baroness Hilda starts to twirl a strand of honey blonde hair round her finger in what appears to be an unconscious expression of nerves as her gaze shifts across the room to her husband, the Baron, 'She's to be treated with the highest levels of hospitality,' she adds, 'I've had to order one of the boy's rooms in my Lord's private residence prepared for her use... he'll be furious when he finds out...'
The private residence, upper hall...
Entering the hall which makes up the centre of Baron Otto's private residence you find a pair of obviously terrified men-at-arms escorting two unusual figures...
The first is a powerfully built man, over six feet tall, with his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and what appears to be a purpetual scowl etched onto the heavy brow of his pale-skinned face. Although his steel-grey eyes catch one's attention immediately, seeming to project a sense of frightening might held in check only by an iron will, it's his form of dress which is most striking: a set of full plate armour, pitch black, and sculpted so as to appear like the muscles of a man with his skin removed. From his shoulders flows a cloak which at first appears tattered, but on closer inspection is tailored to resemble the flayed skin of some poor creature... at least, you hope it's merely a resemblance... Both a well-used and cared-for looking longsword, and a many-tailed whip of braided leather, are worn at his belt. That the man is both armed and armoured inside the Baron's private chambers is almost inconceivable - yet he stands there as if he not only belonged, but as if everything he laid eyes on... even you... were beholden to his will...
Compared to the incredible presence of the armoured man the second figure is hard to even notice, but no less unusual when she is spotted. A young halfling woman, with her dark hair braided into a long tail, then fastened into a loop-like style atop her head, she stands behind and a little to the left of the armour-clad man. Barefoot and clad in only a brief shift of rough cloth, the halfling woman's skin is a little darker than the man's, and appears to be covered in a multitude of old scars. A heavy iron collar around her neck, apparantly forged into place, with a large ring set at the front, confirms her status as a slave. Strapped to her back, under each arm, and in each hand she's carrying a large amount of luggage. Maybe most disturbing, however, her tongue is protruding from her mouth, with a slender silver spike, maybe three or four inches long, freshly pierced through it...
'Make haste and show us the rooms assigned our party,' the man demands, his deep voice seemingly so etched with the tone of authority as to make even the innocent feel like confessing, 'the slip must make ready for Lady Melisende, and I wish to rest.'
|
The Great Hall...
A short distance away...
'I'm sorry, milady. I did not mean to stir up memories of sad times for you. I am a boor to have upset you. I spend too much time away from the pleasantries of a court... and beautiful ladies.''Do not concern yourself with my... weakness of character, Sir Clarius,' Lady Ailith replies, a little formally, 'It has been many years since disaster befell my family, and truth be told I've lived many more years in Thevia as the blind ward to two kindly Viscounts than I ever did as the daughter of the Lord of the Frostward. The past is done, we should all look to the future.'
Sir Clarius slightly hesitates in his step at Lady Ailith's words. Her father was vassal to Baron Otto, but it was Viscount Thevia, and now his son, who guard her. What type of disaster would keep the Baron from taking guardianship of his own vassal? Are the viscounts her relations? Why have I not heard of a disaster in Frostward?[i]
Stepping a little closer to Clarius, Ailith manages to smile again, and asks, 'What of your future, my fine flattering knight? You seek lands of your own from Baron Otto's hand? Or does the prospect of managing land and passing judgement over local disputes of field boundries and ale prices fill your free-ranging soul with mortal dread? Maybe you strive to win your fortune at the tilt, like many others here... although from the report of this morning's actions - recounted by my Lord Thevia in [i]tedious
detail - I dare say you've a ways to go in the art of staying in the saddle!' she laughs her light laugh once more as she gently teases Clarius, then adds, 'Or mayhap it's the hand of the Lady Rebecca you seek? Though, thinking back on Lord Thevia's long-winded accounting, I recall that his description of the Lady suggested that it may be more than her mere hand that men may find attractive...
' Huh,...' Clarius grunts. 'Your guardian landed a well placed blow. He definitely rang my bell. I don't begrudge a man his skill.' He goes on, 'Lady Rebecca is a good girl, ahem, woman, as of this evening. I have known her since she was a small girl. The viscount does not understate her appearance, however; she has given me no indication that she desires more than a friendship.'
Looking thoughtful Sir Clarius adds, 'As to my future, I always assumed that through hard work and some measure of luck I might earn some land. I never considered that I may have to resolve disputes or argue market prices. That doesn't sound nearly so much a reward than a chore. You make me think I should look more towards the wilds of the frontier. Less banality with more opportunity for adventure. Frostward is near to the frontier, yes? A good land with mountains and forest sounds ideal, don't you think?'
Clarius looks to Ailith as he says, 'I have ever looked forward to tourneys for the opportunity they present to match my skills against other knights. Before today, I never considered fighting for the attention or approval of another.
The private residence, upper hall...
Both Beatrix and Alaina can be here for this...
Entering the hall which makes up the centre of Baron Otto's private residence you find a pair of obviously terrified men-at-arms escorting two unusual figures...
The first is a powerfully built man, over six feet tall, with his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and what appears to be a purpetual scowl etched onto the heavy brow of his pale-skinned face. Although his steel-grey eyes catch one's attention immediately, seeming to project a sense of frightening might held in check only by an iron will, it's his form of dress which is most striking: a set of full plate armour, pitch black, and sculpted so as to appear like the muscles of a man with his skin removed. From his shoulders flows a cloak which at first appears tattered, but on closer inspection is tailored to resemble the flayed skin of some poor creature... at least, you hope it's merely a resemblance... Both a well-used and cared-for looking longsword, and a many-tailed whip of braided leather, are worn at his belt. That the man is both armed and armoured inside the Baron's private chambers is almost inconceivable - yet he stands there as if he not only belonged, but as if everything he laid eyes on... even you... were beholden to his will...
Compared to the incredible presence of the armoured man the second figure is hard to even notice, but no less unusual when she is spotted. A young halfling woman, with her dark hair braided into a long tail, then fastened into a loop-like style atop her head, she stands behind and a little to the left of the armour-clad man. Barefoot and clad in only a brief shift of rough cloth, the halfling woman's skin is a little darker than the man's, and appears to be covered in a multitude of old scars. A heavy iron collar around her neck, apparently forged into place, with a large ring set at the front, confirms her status as a slave. Strapped to her back, under each arm, and in each hand she's carrying a large amount of luggage. Maybe most disturbing, however, her tongue is protruding from her mouth, with a slender silver spike, maybe three or four inches long, freshly pierced through it...
'Make haste and show us the rooms assigned our party,' the man demands, his deep voice seemingly so etched with the tone of authority as to make even the innocent feel like confessing, 'the slip must make ready for Lady Melisende, and I wish to rest.'
Beatrix steps out of her chambers wearing a long red gown stitched with embroidery of silver thread, and nearly collides with one of the anxious men-at-arms. She suppresses a shiver as she looks over the pair being escorted through the corridor and quietly slinks back to Rebecca's room to check on her mistress.
|
|
'Ah, Kerdin,' the Baron replies, smiling, 'always the wisest of fools... and wise enough to steer us back on course too it seems! You're right, of course, old man... dealing with winter wolves and Viscount Thevia's vassals can wait - we have more pressing affairs closer to home.' Stretching a little, Baron Otto strides towards the door, then adds, 'As for the rest - if you two could make sure people are entertained, keep your usual watchful eyes and ears out for interesting details... and if you could check the food for poison as it was brought in, Zurladew? I'd hate to see any of my guests keel over from anything other than overindulgence!'
Zurladew bows low. "As always, anything you request, milord," he says. When he returns to standing, his notorious smirk is once again upon his face. "Come, Kerdin - let us see what we may do to keep the nobility humble." He obediently follows the Baron and Ranulf to the Great Hall.
As the Great Hall begins to fill, Zurladew takes the rounds, interjecting into conversations, performing minor magic tricks to amuse, and generally trying to keep an eye on everything at once. He makes great pains to keep the Chelaxian ambassador in sight, particularly after the Baroness' clear discomfort.
Yes, you are right. Keep the mood up, harming talk away and prevent people from doing their own things... and most of all, make this beautiful day for Lady Rebecca as Kerdin steps along Zurladew and follows Baron and Ranulf
KN:Nobility
Perception
Perception
Swirling around the Great Hall from side to side, moving between people and their legs as Kerdin jumps up here and there and perform his comedical satiries You know, why pigs can´t never fly? They had never met.... Ah, and that young man and girl were so busy that..... So, there was a cleric, rogue and sorcerer and rogue decided.... Anyone got light? Oh... my hands are burning.... but I don´t have hands!
Seeing Zurladew keeping eye on chelaxian ambassadoress, Kerdin swirl closer to Baroness and Baron and as he passed by
Bluff(secret message My Baron, such a lovely day and so many guest. I am so enthralled and busy with this and I apologize, that I am not able to duplicate myself to this side, but at least you have your Baroness next to you and my, she looks lovely
Perform: Comedy (increase the mood, let people focus to "action", have everyone happy and forget other things for this day)
|
|
Alaina has hair tied back to reveal her earrings this day, a silver sun and crescent moon dangling on either side of her face. The silver necklace around her neck and the silver and gold bracelet around her wrist complete the outfit, shining faintly in the light against her light blue dress.
She frowns inwardly as she notices the arrival of the man in black armor and the poor halfling at his side. She is deliberate in keeping as much distance between herself and that man as she can, going around the hall slowly to hide her limp. She joins the Ladies Rebbecca and Beatrix as soon as the arrive.
|
|
Private residence...
As both Beatrix and Alaina attempt to slink past the man in disturbing black armour he addresses them again, managing to time it just right so that he has both of them firmly in his gaze when he speaks,
'You two,' his voice alone carries a tone of absolute authority, by itself almost enough to pin both women to the floor where they stand, but with his steely gaze as well, the man is truly terrifying, 'ignore me and I will stripe both your worthless half-breed hides with my lash.' The man's manner and sheer presence leave no uncertainty that he'll do just that... The men-at-arms escorting the black armoured figure (and the halfling slave) glance at each other, neither wanting to be the one to confront this tyrant of a man... they seem more terrified than the two Ladies-in-waiting feel!
The Great Hall...
"Fear not m'lady. I will be glad to escort our "guests" around the castle and tourney grounds. As for the sleeping arrangements I can broach the subject with the baron if you'd prefer?"
'You're a treasure, Father,' the Baroness replies, with obvious relief, 'between the Imperial Seal and your doing the asking I hope that my Lord's wrath will, at least, be minimised...'
Assuming Clarius doesn't know about it as it hasn't been discussed in or out of character before now.
'Lady Rebecca is a good girl, ahem, woman, as of this evening. I have known her since she was a small girl. The viscount does not understate her appearance, however; she has given me no indication that she desires more than a friendship.'
'Would you seek more than that, good Sir Clarius?' Ailith replies, 'And if so, would it be on the Lady's looks alone, or has she other qualities you admire?'
'As to my future, I always assumed that through hard work and some measure of luck I might earn some land. I never considered that I may have to resolve disputes or argue market prices. That doesn't sound nearly so much a reward than a chore. You make me think I should look more towards the wilds of the frontier. Less banality with more opportunity for adventure. Frostward is near to the frontier, yes? A good land with mountains and forest sounds ideal, don't you think?'
'It's a place of beauty,' Lady Ailith agrees, 'the snow-capped mountains wreathed in fog, the forests of pine, the alpine meadows...' she takes a sip of her drink, then smiles, adding, 'of course I remember with a child's eyes - you would know better than I how it appears these days. As for adventure... well, I suppose that's just another word for "danger", and there always was plenty of that...'
Assuming I can make a Knowledge: Geography check: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12 (apparently, we don't get a forester bonus on geography checks) to know where Frostward is and its composition.
'I have ever looked forward to tourneys for the opportunity they present to match my skills against other knights. Before today, I never considered fighting for the attention or approval of another.'
'You seek the attention and approval of your Lady Rebecca,' Ailith asks, 'or perhaps your liege, the Baron...' she turns away a little as a slight touch of colour rises to her cheeks and she adds, quietly, '... I daren't ask if there's anyone else who's attention you seek...'
Meanwhile, the food starts to be brought in - the best and most expensive dishes for the high table, with the richness and selection diminishing somewhat for those with lower seating at the feast . A multitude of mouth-watering aromas fill the air as platters and dishes are brought in by a seeming army of servants. Boars heads, roasted swans, pheasants, ducks, geese, and peacocks, venison, mutton, jugged hare, fish, soups and stews, crustade , carrots, parsnips, turnip, onions, leaks, wild garlic and, of course, plenty of round loaves of fresh bread... the variety is astounding, and the amount enough to beggar the mind, yet it keeps coming. (Zurladew has his work cut out, 'testing' each dish as it arrives - thankfully there's some time before the actual feasting is to begin).
Many of the dishes are at least as much art as they are cuisine - from boar's heads with apples in their mouths, to the peacocks and swans arranged back in their own skins - feathers and all - as to almost appear alive. The banquet is a true spectacle, and one most of the guests are happy to be part of, since even for the nobility the usual fare for a day is, for the most part, pottage and bread. Trenchers are laid out, as well as wooden bowls and spoons for the soups and stews . The salt cellar - a fine piece of silverware crafted to resemble Redwyrm castle itself - is placed, with some ceremony, in the centre of the high table, directly opposite where the Baron is to sit, as a demosntration of the man's - and therefore the Barony's - wealth and generousity.
As the activity of the servants increases, the last stragglers of guests arrive, and people's stomachs start to growl, Kerdin's antics help to alliviate some of the tension produced by the arrival of the Cheliaxian Lady ambassador...
My Baron, such a lovely day and so many guest. I am so enthralled and busy with this and I apologize, that I am not able to duplicate myself to this side, but at least you have your Baroness next to you and my, she looks lovely
'Hmmm? What's that?' the Baron mutters in response... but then he catches the look Kerdin's giving him, and the inflection to the jester's words. Glancing at the Baroness, it's as if Baron Otto is seeing her for the first time since they both arrived: a slight smile touches his mouth, and he nods to Kerdin, 'Yes,' he agrees, 'that she is...' sighing a little, the Baron shoos Kerdin away, 'Away with you fool!' he declares, 'Go bother my guests!'
Exusing himself from the couple he's speaking to, Baron Otto strides across the room and slips his arm around his Baroness's waist, holding her close, 'You do look lovely this evening, m'Lady,' he says quietly to her, eliciting a smile from Baroness Hilda in response...
With the mood lightening, Lady Melisende calls Zurladew over,
'You seem interested in me, little man,' she says, her voice silk-soft... like a razor-sharp dagger slipped between your ribs... the smile on her lips and in her eyes doing little to reassure the jester as she goes on, 'should I be worried? Or are you merely planning on entertaining me?'
'A purpose,' he agrees, 'but what purpose? Despite their ability to think and speak, the winter wolves are still animals, still predators. That they'd be interested in anything other than their next meal is a mystery... and the Old Man must have been a tempting kill indeed - enough to feast on for weeks. Such beasts have been known to ally with the frost giants of the Fog Peaks, though the giants themselves rarely seem to look beyond the next raid. No, if what you say is true then there's some larger strategy we're yet lacking the vantage to see.'
Aydan reflects on Lord Ranulf's words for a moment, trying to find the last piece to this puzzle, "As I understand it, My Lord, it is not an entirely uncommon practice to use serfs and sellswords as the first wave in an assault. It weakens your enemy while leaving your own side hardly worse for wear, and lets one gauge the strength of their opponent..." He looks back to Lord Ranulf, unsure if what he's saying really makes sense, but dreadfully concerned about the possibility that he's right.{b]"Maybe Bloodbristle was that first wave?"[/b]
As the discussion continues, Aydan watches the procession taking place in front of them, noting the Chelaxian ambassador, as well as the way the Baron and his wife act when first entering, though he smiles a little on seeing them warm to each other. "My Lord, perhaps it would be best to continue this discussion at a later time," He gives a small but sincere smile, not wanting to offend the man, "As you've said, sending any man but Clarius or I out would be foolhardy and neither of us may leave at the moment. Also..." he nods slightly In the Baron's direction and then towards the Chelaxian, "It seems our Baron will need your counsel and support as much as his daughter will need mine."
As the two go their seperate ways, Aydan pivots back on his heel, "My Lord, thank you for speaking to me so quickly about this."
|
|
The Great Hall...
'Would you seek more than that, good Sir Clarius?' Ailith replies, 'And if so, would it be on the Lady's looks alone, or has she other qualities you admire?'
'Lady Rebecca is a fine woman. Clarius says, 'I must confess to having only given her position, nay plight, a cursory examination. There are many suitors after her. Most of them have titles and lands. I would not think to compete with them.' Shaking his head, he continues, 'Take this tourney. There are many prizes offered, but almost every knight is here for the grand prize. I don't want what's on the block. I want someone because they want me.' Clarius lowers his head and looking sideways at Lady Ailith, he confides, 'I am rather foolish. I know that good matches are made and the couple should come to know, respect, and perhaps someday love one another. Still, finding a woman who knows herself, and her own mind, and yet finds me to embody her ideals; she would be the only prize for me.'
'It's a place of beauty,' Lady Ailith agrees, 'the snow-capped mountains wreathed in fog, the forests of pine, the alpine meadows...' she takes a sip of her drink, then smiles, adding, 'of course I remember with a child's eyes - you would know better than I how it appears these days. As for adventure... well, I suppose that's just another word for "danger", and there always was plenty of that...'
Clarius comes to a sudden stop, 'I hadn't realized...' lingually stumbling, he reaches for the words, concern flooding his voice, 'You mean... you could see? So Viscount Thevia wasn't exagerating when he called you cursed?' Clarius' concern becomes infused with a righteous anger 'How did this come to pass? Who did this to you?' As Lady Ailith steps back, her eyes widening with twin looks of fear and anguish at the vehemence in his questions, Clarius feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. 'Milady, forgive me. It is presumptious of me to make demands of you. You have given me no claim over you and I apologize for imposing myself upon you.' Looking down, ashamed of his actions, Clarius cannot meet Lady Ailith's eye as he anticipates her condemnation.
|
|
"Maybe Bloodbristle was that first wave?"
'It's a chilling thought,' Ranulf agrees, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
"It seems our Baron will need your counsel and support as much as his daughter will need mine."
Glancing up and taking a brief moment to look over the growing scene, Ranulf nods, clapping Aydan on the back,
'Aye lad,' he says, half a smile creasing his weathered face, 'and that's a most valuable lesson you seem to have learned: great leaders don't have to be the strongest or smartest - they need to inspire the loyalty of those who's counsel they can trust. The Baron is such a person, and I can see that part of him in his daughter too. You stick by her, lad - not like these preening peacocks come to court her hand and the very Barony itself, but as the true friend you are.'
"My Lord, thank you for speaking to me so quickly about this."
'And thank you, young Aydan,' Ranulf replies, 'for not making me regret doing so.'
'I am rather foolish. I know that good matches are made and the couple should come to know, respect, and perhaps someday love one another. Still, finding a woman who knows herself, and her own mind, and yet finds me to embody her ideals; she would be the only prize for me.'
'You may claim to be a stranger to the ways of the court, good Sir knight,' Ailith replies with a warm smile, 'but somewhere between your horse and your dogs you seem to have become something of a romantic - and foolish romantics are the best kind, as far as I understand such things...'
'Milady, forgive me. It is presumptious of me to make demands of you. You have given me no claim over you and I apologize for imposing myself upon you.'
Ailith sighs and casts her blind eyes towards the floor,
'It's no imposition,' she says quietly, after a short silence, 'not so long as you ask for the right reasons... and I trust that you do.' She sighs again, then continues, 'Would that there were a simple answer: "How did this come to pass?", "Who did this?"... The former I only know that I was lost in the Fog Peaks, alone for many days, as a child, when disaster befell my family, and the whole of the Frostward. I believe that, on one level, the snow took my sight... yet such a thing should be curable by the hand of the divine - so how ultimately did it happen? That I do not know. As to who did it, again, the answer is not a simple one... maybe the gods themselves? Or one could blame the frost giants who attacked the fief, if looking for a more immediate and accessable target for blame... or maybe it was my Father, failing to protect his family? Or some would even lay the blame at the door of the Redwyrm family, for not protecting their vassals as an overlord should...' she shrugs, 'if one were to try hard enough I'm sure reason could be found for laying blame at the doors of everyone from the Grand Prince himself to the lowliest serf in the fief. It has been a long time, and if I were to be honest, I'm no longer sure that it even matters - what's done is done, and the wheels of the heavens will turn whether I can see them or not.'
|
|
Ailith sighs and casts her blind eyes towards the floor,
'It's no imposition,' she says quietly, after a short silence, 'not so long as you ask for the right reasons... and I trust that you do.' She sighs again, then continues, 'Would that there were a simple answer: "How did this come to pass?", "Who did this?"... The former I only know that I was lost in the Fog Peaks, alone for many days, as a child, when disaster befell my family, and the whole of the Frostward. I believe that, on one level, the snow took my sight... yet such a thing should be curable by the hand of the divine - so how ultimately did it happen? That I do not know. As to who did it, again, the answer is not a simple one... maybe the gods themselves? Or one could blame the frost giants who attacked the fief, if looking for a more immediate and accessable target for blame... or maybe it was my Father, failing to protect his family? Or some would even lay the blame at the door of the Redwyrm family, for not protecting their vassals as an overlord should...' she shrugs, 'if one were to try hard enough I'm sure reason could be found for laying blame at the doors of everyone from the Grand Prince himself to the lowliest serf in the fief. It has been a long time, and if I were to be honest, I'm no longer sure that it even matters - what's done is done, and the wheels of the heavens will turn whether I can see them or not.'
Clarius takes several breaths before continuing, 'You are right, milady. I am a romantic fool. For a brief moment I thought I was going to protect you from some vile threat. Foolish of me to forget that the viscounts, and I'm certain the baron, have already tried to help you. That you have maintained your poise in the face of such hardships is remarkable. I am slow to learn that beneath your great beauty you are obviously a strong, intelligent woman.'
Shaking his head, he tells Lady Ailith, 'I do know of snow blindness and you're right, it should have been as nothing for the priests to cure. If it is a curse, then it may be that you need the ministrations of a wise woman or witch. Thinking aloud, Clarius says, 'Lady Alaina is a midwife and has some knowledge of the wyrd. Perhaps she would know something that might counter the curse or at least how it may have been applied.'
|
|
With the mood lightening, Lady Melisende calls Zurladew over,
'You seem interested in me, little man,' she says, her voice silk-soft... like a razor-sharp dagger slipped between your ribs... the smile on her lips and in her eyes doing little to reassure the jester as she goes on, 'should I be worried? Or are you merely planning on entertaining me?'
Zurladew bows low to the ambassador. "Of course I would be interested in so singular a lady, madam," Zurladew says. "Our barony is rarely the haunt of Chelaxians, so your appearance is as much of a novelty as mine is a fright. Coupled with the fact that you are so bedecked as to draw attention, is there any reason to expect anything other than my eyes being upon you, as well as those of the rest of the court? You should thank your dressmaker for such a flattering gown, and your slaves for making such menacing points on your nails." Zurladew ends his bow, a wide grin upon his face. "All I seek to do is amuse you, milady, though I have at times been accused of libel, slander, gross exaggeration, and the occasional blatant lie, all in the name of comedy. As long as you understand that, milady, there should be no worries, and much entertainment."
Aydan can't help but smile a little to himself at the conversation with Lord Ranulf. The man's few small words were more important to Aydan than he probably even realized, and went a long way towards helping the lad get over the events of the day. He thought back to the Lord's instructions to stand by Rebecca as a true friend, "As long as I draw breath, M'Lord." He mutters to himself.
Aydan will wander through the hall, being courteous to anyone he meets, though he'll try not to step on any toes. He'll flirt and whatnot, but not make any serious moves, and keeps an eye out for Lady Rebecca and her retinue.
As he does, he chances across Sir Garrett, and grins to the man, bowing his head to him, "Evening M'lord, enjoying the festivities?"
|
|
As he does, he chances across Sir Garrett, and grins to the man, bowing his head to him, "Evening M'lord, enjoying the festivities?"
"M'lord?" Garrett asks with a friendly smile on his face "Not hardly, my friend. This gathering is interesting enough, it has given me an opportunity to observe my competition for the tourney, and I must admit, the competition will be fierce."
"I trust you have been enjoying yourself?" a wry grin comes to the knight's face. "Just how many of the ladies about, have you made yourself...available to this evening? And I trust you have found the one who favored you earlier today?"
Aydan gives a noncommittal shrug, "I've behaved myself thus far, wouldn't want to get myself kicked out too early, but the night is still young." he returns Garrett's grin with a similar one of his own, "And as for Lady Alaina, I'm honestly not sure my opinion of that. It seems safer to avoid that port, as it were." He laughs and gives Garrett a light punch in the arm, "Besides, someone needs to actually look out for the Lady Rebecca, and keep her safe from the Rakes... you know, like you."
|
|
Garrett chuckles at the comment.
"I know you and the Lady Rebecca are nearly as close as siblings, but the Lady has nothing to fear from me, Aydan. While I admit she is lovely and fiery of spirit on top of that, there is nothing I can offer her, or her father, other than myself."
Garrett pauses in thought momentarily...
"If my situation were to change for the better, my reluctance to pursue Rebecca would likely change as well." Enough about that for now. Come, let us get ourselves a goblet of wine and perhaps some food and try and make the best of this evening."
Sir Jaymin eventually wanders away from Sir Garrett and smoozes a bit. It's not his forte, but hopefully he manages to conduct himself appropriately. Diplomacy:
He sips at a glass of wine, making small talk with some of the other knights, dances a galliard or two with a few of the ladies, and otherwise contents himself with waiting for Lady Rebecca's no doubt breath-taking entrance.
|
|
Private residence...
"Sir... Surely I heard you wrong, because it sounded like you called us worthless, and the Baron Redwyrm would never have such a person in his service."
The imposing man in strange plate armour snarls, pulling the whip from his belt and uncoiling it. The halfling slave's eyes go wide as she sees the instrument of punishment, and she takes an involuntary, nervous, step backwards.
'I see there's only one language you'll understand, slave,' the man growls at Alaina, giving the whip a couple of test snaps across the floor, 'I imagine your Baron will thank me for taking this duty upon myself'... The two men-at-arms jostle each other until one manages to take a step forwards and clear his throat... but the armoured man either doesn't, or chooses not to, notice...
The Great Hall...
'You are right, milady. I am a romantic fool. For a brief moment I thought I was going to protect you from some vile threat. Foolish of me to forget that the viscounts, and I'm certain the baron, have already tried to help you. That you have maintained your poise in the face of such hardships is remarkable. I am slow to learn that beneath your great beauty you are obviously a strong, intelligent woman.'
Ailith smiles a small, sad, smile,
'I assure you, my wonderful romantic fool, any poise I may possess has been earned through years of sadness, anger, and more than a little frustration. You may have been less generous in your flattery if you'd known me in my younger days, self-absorbed brat that I surely was...' a warmer smile touches her lips, and she even laughs a little, '... I'm sure there were many days when my Lord Geoffrey thanked his stars for my lack of aim as I threw food and goblets and... yes, once I do recall throwing an actual live chicken at him... as he tried nothing more than to befriend me and show me kindness.'
Leaning a little closer to Clarius, as she keeps hold of his arm, Lady Ailith adds, 'You'll be glad to know my poultry-hurling days are far behind me, good Sir Clarius - you and the chickens are safe!'
'I do know of snow blindness and you're right, it should have been as nothing for the priests to cure. If it is a curse, then it may be that you need the ministrations of a wise woman or witch... Lady Alaina is a midwife and has some knowledge of the wyrd. Perhaps she would know something that might counter the curse or at least how it may have been applied.'
'Are you, mayhap, being a trifle forward with me, Sir Clarius,' Ailith teasingly replies, 'suggesting the services of a midwife, and us having only just met!' she giggles her light laugh, but then continues, more seriously, 'I've long since forgone the pain of hope such introductions bring... but even without hope, I'll meet your Lady, for only a fool would deny a chance offered, even if it's only the illusion of a chance, and the echo of hope...' she sighs, 'Once more I find my affliction dominating the conversation as it is want to do - either directly or by studied avoidance... Perhaps we could talk of other things?'
"Of course I would be interested in so singular a lady, madam... Our barony is rarely the haunt of Chelaxians, so your appearance is as much of a novelty as mine is a fright. Coupled with the fact that you are so bedecked as to draw attention, is there any reason to expect anything other than my eyes being upon you, as well as those of the rest of the court? You should thank your dressmaker for such a flattering gown, and your slaves for making such menacing points on your nails."
'Oh ho!' Lady Melisende replies, smiling and clearly amused, 'so I'm "menacing" as I "haunt" the place am I? Perhaps I carry the ill-deserved reputation of an entire nation on my shoulders, yes? I'll be sure to pass on your compliments to my dressmaker, but it sounds like my slave needs a good beating if my nails are such a terror!'
"All I seek to do is amuse you, milady, though I have at times been accused of libel, slander, gross exaggeration, and the occasional blatant lie, all in the name of comedy. As long as you understand that, milady, there should be no worries, and much entertainment."
'I'll admit that Taldan humour is something of an acquired taste,' the lady ambassador counters, 'but one I am happy to learn of, if your rapier-like mind is any indication of the quality - for one horrid moment I'd thought your fellow's buffoonery the height of the art...' she glances across the room towards Kerdin, then turns back to Zurladew, 'although I'd caution against trying to amuse my companion... wherever he's gotten himself to... Sir Thibault is a guardian-maralictor of the Order of the Rack - the Hellknight assigned by the powers-that-be in my homeland to watch over my safety. As devoted and proficient as he may be in his duties, he's been slow to aclimatise to Taldan society... and for the life of me, I've yet to discover any hints of a sense of humour in the man at all...'
Still smiling, Lady Melisende takes a sip of wine from her goblet, her eyes remaining fixed on Zurladew over the rim even as she does so, then continues,
'So, little man, do you perform other magics, or just the cautionary ones I saw you engaged in with the food? Oh,' she adds, seemingly as an afterthought, 'and on that note, would you be so kind as to explain the social conventions for spellcasting at this gathering? I have some incantations I prepared for the journey here and never used, but wouldn't want to cast them, even for the sake of entertaining our host, if such were not the done thing. One would hardly want to end up run-through by some over-eager knight for trying to amuse with a parlor trick!'
|
|
'Oh ho!' Lady Melisende replies, smiling and clearly amused, 'so I'm "menacing" as I "haunt" the place am I? Perhaps I carry the ill-deserved reputation of an entire nation on my shoulders, yes? I'll be sure to pass on your compliments to my dressmaker, but it sounds like my slave needs a good beating if my nails are such a terror!'
"Ah, madam, your slave might be spared the beating - I'm sure she is as unused to Taldan style as we are unused to Chelaxian norms. She's only doing what she knows."
'I'll admit that Taldan humour is something of an acquired taste,' the lady ambassador counters, 'but one I am happy to learn of, if your rapier-like mind is any indication of the quality - for one horrid moment I'd thought your fellow's buffoonery the height of the art...' she glances across the room towards Kerdin, then turns back to Zurladew, 'although I'd caution against trying to amuse my companion... wherever he's gotten himself to... Sir Thibault is a guardian-maralictor of the Order of the Rack - the Hellknight assigned by the powers-that-be in my homeland to watch over my safety. As devoted and proficient as he may be in his duties, he's been slow to aclimatise to Taldan society... and for the life of me, I've yet to discover any hints of a sense of humour in the man at all...'
Still smiling, Lady Melisende takes a sip of wine from her goblet, her eyes remaining fixed on Zurladew over the rim even as she does so, then continues,
'So, little man, do you perform other magics, or just the cautionary ones I saw you engaged in with the food? Oh,' she adds, seemingly as an afterthought, 'and on that note, would you be so kind as to explain the social conventions for spellcasting at this gathering? I have some incantations I prepared for the journey here and never used, but wouldn't want to cast them, even for the sake of entertaining our host, if such were not the done thing. One would hardly want to end up run-through by some over-eager knight for trying to amuse with a parlor trick!'
"I shall be certain to keep my jests tastefully respectful when your fearsome guardian is around, milady - a jester's place is with a rack of lamb in hand, not on the lam from being handed to a rack."
He nods thoughtfully to her question. "I have some small magical talents - illusions and legerdemain to entertain the mind and bedazzle the senses. I've never been run-through for the magic, though I'm certain some sore knight might have wished to do so for the tongue-lashing that often accompanies my displays. It might be better to save your entertainments for another night - besides, it would be in poor taste for us to force a guest to entertain, especially with a pair of fools and a plague of other lesser entertainers at hand. Besides, if you do too well, then I'd be out a job, for why have an ugly magician on retainer if one can simply request a beautiful one?"
Private residence...As both Beatrix and Alaina attempt to slink past the man in disturbing black armour he addresses them again, managing to time it just right so that he has both of them firmly in his gaze when he speaks,
'You two,' his voice alone carries a tone of absolute authority, by itself almost enough to pin both women to the floor where they stand, but with his steely gaze as well, the man is truly terrifying, 'ignore me and I will stripe both your worthless half-breed hides with my lash.' The man's manner and sheer presence leave no uncertainty that he'll do just that... The men-at-arms escorting the black armoured figure (and the halfling slave) glance at each other, neither wanting to be the one to confront this tyrant of a man... they seem more terrified than the two Ladies-in-waiting feel!
Private residence...
The imposing man in strange plate armour snarls, pulling the whip from his belt and uncoiling it. The halfling slave's eyes go wide as she sees the instrument of punishment, and she takes an involuntary, nervous, step backwards.
'I see there's only one language you'll understand, slave,' the man growls at Alaina, giving the whip a couple of test snaps across the floor, 'I imagine your Baron will thank me for taking this duty upon myself'... The two men-at-arms jostle each other until one manages to take a step forwards and clear his throat... but the armoured man either doesn't, or chooses not to, notice...
Lady Alaina's words shake Beatrix from her paralysis and answers the Hellknight, her voice full of steel. "Step off whoreson curr; your kind are not even fit to look upon a lady of Taldor. Now apologize and hurry back to the kennel with the rest of the dogs."
|
|
The Great Hall...
Ailith smiles a small, sad, smile,
Leaning a little closer to Clarius, as she keeps hold of his arm, Lady Ailith adds, 'You'll be glad to know my poultry-hurling days are far behind me, good Sir Clarius - you and the chickens are safe!'
Laughing, Clarius replies, 'It sounds like I would be safe either way, but I should mention poultry hurling to Baron Otto as a possible addition to the tourney's list of events. Who knows you may pick up a trophy!' Leaning in to Lady Ailith, he adds, 'Then I would give you my token. Imagine having the dreaded cock tosser as my champion.'
'Are you, mayhap, being a trifle forward with me, Sir Clarius,' Ailith teasingly replies, 'suggesting the services of a midwife, and us having only just met!' she giggles her light laugh, but then continues, more seriously, 'I've long since forgone the pain of hope such introductions bring... but even without hope, I'll meet your Lady, for only a fool would deny a chance offered, even if it's only the illusion of a chance, and the echo of hope...' she sighs, 'Once more I find my affliction dominating the conversation as it is want to do - either directly or by studied avoidance... Perhaps we could talk of other things?'
Clarius stops Ailith, holding her hands in his, he softly tells her, 'Your eyes are only a small portion of your beauty, milady. I am amenable to discussing the rest of you. We can speak of your shining golden locks, your statuesque bearing, perhaps how much I owe your seamstress for the masterful way your gown clings to your form or, if you prefer, how your porcelain skin takes on the color of a pink rose when you blush at my compliments.'
Aydan laughs and nods as he grabs himself a goblet of wine, walking along beside Sir Garrett, he smiles to a group of maids they pass by, bowing hs head to them, "Not to worry friend, I'm sure we'll find tonight has much to offer in ways of entertainment."
|
|
Private residence...
"Step off whoreson curr; your kind are not even fit to look upon a lady of Taldor. Now apologize and hurry back to the kennel with the rest of the dogs."
"Please do not speak in such a way Lady Beatrix, the dogs are much nicer and deserve no punishment... Not to mention that such language in front of proper guests is unladylike."
Scowling, the armoured man responds,
'Surely not? No culture would elevate their mistakes, the evidence of their inability to constrain their own carnal desires, to the ranks of the nobility! Taldor cannot be so decadent as to...' he trails off, shakes his head in what seems to be disbelief, then recoils his whip, thrusting it back into his belt. Bowing... a little stiffly... he says,
'But I sense the truth of your words, however alien they may be. If such is the way of your culture, then so be it.' Straightening, he stares at the two Ladies-in-waiting, and adds, 'It seems I have breached the established etiquette of this place, this society - and such things must be preserved above all else. By your leave, Ladies, if you could see your way to directing one of your slaves to answer my original question, I must suffer a reckoning for my lapse in judgement. You will, of course, report my conduct to your Baron, and any other appropriate authority, and I will make myself available for whatever punishment is traditional.'
Despite the man's sudden change in attitude, he somehow manages to seem as forceful and as powerful a presence as ever - even if he was beaten and cast down amongst the dogs you suspect he'd still be terrifying...
The Great Hall...
...Haaaave you met Garrett?
"Ah, madam, your slave might be spared the beating - I'm sure she is as unused to Taldan style as we are unused to Chelaxian norms. She's only doing what she knows."
'Then I shall have to find something else to beat her for...' the Chelish Lady replies, still smiling, although you somehow doubt she's entirely joking...
"I shall be certain to keep my jests tastefully respectful when your fearsome guardian is around, milady - a jester's place is with a rack of lamb in hand, not on the lam from being handed to a rack."
'Well put,' Lady Melisende replies, a mischevious twinkle in her eye as she adds, 'although were one able to reduce my grim guardian to laughter... without resporting to magic... I may have cause to reward such a fine and challenging jest handsomly.'
"I have some small magical talents - illusions and legerdemain to entertain the mind and bedazzle the senses. I've never been run-through for the magic, though I'm certain some sore knight might have wished to do so for the tongue-lashing that often accompanies my displays. It might be better to save your entertainments for another night - besides, it would be in poor taste for us to force a guest to entertain, especially with a pair of fools and a plague of other lesser entertainers at hand. Besides, if you do too well, then I'd be out a job, for why have an ugly magician on retainer if one can simply request a beautiful one?"
Lady Melisende laughs,
'A flirt as well as a fool, I see,' she counters, 'I must tread carefully, lest I cause a scandel by succumbing to your charms, oh witty one!' she laughs again, then nods, 'But my thanks for your counsel on the appropriateness... or lack of the same... of my spellcasting. I suppose I'll have to leave the summoning of hordes of devils to another day...' once more, you're unsure of whether she's joking or not...
'It sounds like I would be safe either way, but I should mention poultry hurling to Baron Otto as a possible addition to the tourney's list of events. Who knows you may pick up a trophy!.. Then I would give you my token. Imagine having the dreaded c!&% tosser as my champion.'
Lady Ailith giggles even as she blushes deeply!
'Your eyes are only a small portion of your beauty, milady. I am amenable to discussing the rest of you. We can speak of your shining golden locks, your statuesque bearing, perhaps how much I owe your seamstress for the masterful way your gown clings to your form or, if you prefer, how your porcelain skin takes on the color of a pink rose when you blush at my compliments.'
And blush she still does! Eventually she squeezes Clarius's arm a little and replies, with a slight, wistful, sigh,
'While I would happily listen to your fine flattery all night and all day, I fear your poet's words will reduce me to a state unfit to be presented to our host. The Baron is here, is he not? And his new bride? I feel I should greet them both... as well as the Lady Rebecca, of course... although in her case I may have to hold back my jealousy that she may at any time snatch my gallant escort away from me...' she holds Clarius even closer, resting her head for a moment on his broad shoulder, before standing straight and nodding her readiness to be presented to the Redwyrms...
|
|
The Great Hall...
'While I would happily listen to your fine flattery all night and all day, I fear your poet's words will reduce me to a state unfit to be presented to our host. The Baron is here, is he not? And his new bride? I feel I should greet them both... as well as the Lady Rebecca, of course... although in her case I may have to hold back my jealousy that she may at any time snatch my gallant escort away from me...' she holds Clarius even closer, resting her head for a moment on his broad shoulder, before standing straight and nodding her readiness to be presented to the Redwyrms...
'I'd rather not share you, but you are correct; our host and hostess should be introduced to the pleasure of your company.' Clarius takes Lady Ailith's hand, placing it into the crook of his elbow once more this time keeping his own hand upon hers, and guides them through the press of guests. Approaching the baron and baroness, Clarius awaits their notice before bowing to them.
'Milord and lady, I have the honour of presenting Lady Ailith of Thevia nee Frost...ward.' Clarius nearly falters on his last word, as he suddenly realizes the implications of the worg tracks. Recovering himself, he turns to Ailith, 'Milady, may I present my liege and lady, hosts of this feast and parents to our guest of honour, the Baron and Baroness Redwyrm.'
|
|
'Milord and lady, I have the honour of presenting Lady Ailith of Thevia nee Frost...ward... Milady, may I present my liege and lady, hosts of this feast and parents to our guest of honour, the Baron and Baroness Redwyrm.'
'A pleasure Lady... Ailith?' it's the Baron's turn to falter a little as his greeting of the Lady turns to recognition. Placing a bear-like hand on either of Ailith's slender shoulders, Baron Otto stares at her... the Baroness remains politely silent, although her somewhat concerned glance at her husband's reaction is plain to see.
'Little Ailith...' the Baron murmurs, still staring at the Lady, '... who would have believed it?!' Suddenly he embraces the young woman, a smile spreading across his face, 'Ailith - it must be twenty years! You were, well - this high,' he indicates a little under waist height with his hand, 'when I last saw you!'
Slightly taken aback by the Baron's enthusiastic embrace, Ailith reaches for Clarius's support, but manages to compose herself, dropping a curtsy, and replying,
'I'll take your word for it, my Lord...'
'Hmmm?' The Baron takes a moment to comprehend, then shakes his head, 'Ah yes... your blindness... Thevia wrote me of the inability of the priests to cure it... Another painful reminder of that dark day... Sir Berenger was a fine man...'
'So I am told, my Lord,' Ailith replies softly, 'though I'm afraid I barely remember him myself... and I wasn't the only one to lose a father that day. As to my affliction - 'tis not painful but more... an inconvienience... one which allows me to snare your fine knights to use as my eyes for the evening,' she holds Clarius a little closer and smiles.
'Brave little Ailith,' the Baron responds, clearly impressed. He smiles, offering Clarius a quick wink (to which the Baroness frowns, but says nothing), then turns to scan the room,
'Ranulf!' he calls to his vassal, waving him over, 'Ranulf - come here! You have to meet Sir Berenger's little girl!'
Excusing himself from those he was talking to Sir Ranulf dutifully approaches, his eyes widening a little as he sees Ailith. Bowing, he gently takes her hand,
'My Lady,' he says graciously, 'you have indeed grown into a great beauty. When the festivities are done it would be my pleasure to have you visit us in the Frostward... if,' he winces slightly, seemingly unsure of whether he's said the wrong thing or not, 'such a visit wouldn't stir too many painful memories for you, of course.'
'You are too kind, Sir Ranulf,' Ailith replies, smiling, 'mayhap once the tourney is done... and assuming he's still fit for the task... the good Sir Clarius would be willing to escort me on such a visit?'
Meanwhile...
Sir Jaymin's fine efforts to socialise finally lead him to Sir Philipe and Lady Ilaria. With his hand around his wife's slim waist, the renowned champion takes a moment to glance over Sir Jaymin, then smiles and offers his hand,
'Jaymin, isn't it?' he asks, 'I've heard tell you did well at a little "informal" pre-tourney event that Lord Thevia arranged? You and a fellow named... Garrett? That was it, yes?' he glances around the room, 'To be honest, I'll be glad to have at least a little competition... I'll win, of course, but one likes to work up a sweat at the very least...'
'You worship that demi-god of competiton I believe?' Lady Ilaria adds, her expression a little haughty, despite the polite smile, 'Hoping for some divine intervention against my husband maybe?'
|
|
Sense Motive:
'As to my affliction - 'tis not painful but more... an inconvienience... one which allows me to snare your fine knights to use as my eyes for the evening,' she holds Clarius a little closer and smiles.
'I'm afraid it's a case of the blind leading the blind, milord and lady. Since laying eyes upon Lady Ailith this afternoon I have lost sight of all else.' Sir Clarius says with a wide grin, blushing just slightly at Baron Otto's wink.
Sense Motive:
'You are too kind, Sir Ranulf,' Ailith replies, smiling, 'mayhap once the tourney is done... and assuming he's still fit for the task... the good Sir Clarius would be willing to escort me on such a visit?'
Chest puffing up with pride, Sir Clarius responds to Lady Ailith, 'It would be my great pleasure to escort you... anywhere.'
Looking first to Baroness Hilda, Sir Clarius states, 'Milady, forgive me souring the festivities, but I am remiss in relaying to you the events of this afternoon, milord.' eyes meeting Baron Otto's, Clarius reports, 'You may already have heard that Old Bloodbristle has finally been brought down. This is important inasmuch as he was driven to Dwarf's Bridge by a pair of worgs. We backtracked them coming from the outlying farms. As the old boar is usually found in Frostward and the Fog Peaks this early in the year and all three sets of tracks come from that direction, I fear there may have been damage wrought to holdings between here and there.' Looking down for a moment before continuing, 'I... am late in reporting this as I failed to make the connection to Frostward until just now.'
"Certainly not, my Lady. Kurgess is above all, the god of fair competition, and would likely strike me sword-arm numb for even asking for divine intervention in a joust between mortal competitors. If you are the stronger and more skilled, Sir Phillipe, than you will defeat me on the field, and I shall salute your victory."
|
|
'I... am late in reporting this as I failed to make the connection to Frostward until just now.'
'Young Aydan reported such to me earlier, my Liege,' Ranulf offers the Baron, 'I've arranged for riders to send word to the Frostward, and to check the outlying farms, at first light. Until then there seems little of practical value we can do.'
'This is troubling news,' Baron Otto replies, his tone suddenly serious as he frowns and begins to unconciously stroke his full red beard, 'especially when we have so many guests in the Barony for the tourney. Worgs seldom act without sense... without some purpose... and driving prey instead of killing it isn't in their usual nature...' he glances at Ranulf, '... You'll keep me informed?'
'Of course, Baron,' Ranulf replies, with a bow, adding, 'once the initial reports are in, the services of young Aydan and Sir Clarius here may prove useful in further investigation... if there proves to be anything further to investigate, of course... do I have your leave to call on them if needed, my Liege?'
The Baron smiles, glancing sideways at Clarius and Ailith,
'You have my leave, certainly... although I won't speak for Lady Ailith, and I believe it's her leave you'll be requiring when it comes to calling on Clarius here...'
Alith blushes, casting her blind eyes downwards, as she replies,
'I... ah... I wouldn't want to court danger, Baron... especially for the Frostward... by keeping Sir Clarius from his duties... if and when the times comes for him to be called away I'll... well... I'll leave the choice to him...'
'Surely, Sir Clarius,' the Baroness Hilda speaks up, 'you're planning on competing in the tourney first? You have, I hear, a score to settle with the men of Thevia? Not to mention, of course, the favour of a Lady to win... or so it seems..?'
Ailith's blush deepens, but she replies,
'I... I doubt that so gallant a knight as Sir Clarius would require my modest favour to spur him to victory... but if he wishes to wear my token, then I'll gladly offer him such...'
"Certainly not, my Lady. Kurgess is above all, the god of fair competition, and would likely strike me sword-arm numb for even asking for divine intervention in a joust between mortal competitors. If you are the stronger and more skilled, Sir Phillipe, than you will defeat me on the field, and I shall salute your victory."
'An interesting concept that,' Lady Ilaria replies, 'the "fair" fight I mean. How do you interpret such, Sir Jaymin? Do the competitors have to be equal for it to be "fair" - in terms of weapons and armour and magical aid, as well as in terms of strength and skill? Would you deem my using my art to benefit my husband an "unfair" advantage? Or by "fair" do you simply mean within the rules of the tourney?'
'Don't hound the poor fellow, dear,' Sir Philipe gently chides his wife, 'he's already promised to salute me on the morrow... what more could I ask of my opponents when I claim their horse and armour?'
|
|
'Of course, Baron,' Ranulf replies, with a bow, adding, 'once the initial reports are in, the services of young Aydan and Sir Clarius here may prove useful in further investigation... if there proves to be anything further to investigate, of course... do I have your leave to call on them if needed, my Liege?'
The Baron smiles, glancing sideways at Clarius and Ailith,
'You have my leave, certainly... although I won't speak for Lady Ailith, and I believe it's her leave you'll be requiring when it comes to calling on Clarius here...'
Alith blushes, casting her blind eyes downwards, as she replies,
'I... ah... I wouldn't want to court danger, Baron... especially for the Frostward... by keeping Sir Clarius from his duties... if and when the times comes for him to be called away I'll... well... I'll leave the choice to him...'
'Surely, Sir Clarius,' the Baroness Hilda speaks up, 'you're planning on competing in the tourney first? You have, I hear, a score to settle with the men of Thevia? Not to mention, of course, the favour of a Lady to win... or so it seems..?'
Ailith's blush deepens, but she replies,
'I... I doubt that so gallant a knight as Sir Clarius would require my modest favour to spur him to victory... but if he wishes to wear my token, then I'll gladly offer him such...'
Ever the competitor, Sir Clarius seems bent on outblushing Lady Ailith. 'I'll await your word, Sir Ranulf.' Looking to his leige, Clarius tells Baron Otto, 'I serve at your pleasure, milord, and always make myself available to you, even should your summons itself seem to be the worgs which need slaying.'
Taking Ailith's hands and looking long into her face, Clarius' voice soft as murmurs, 'I face fearsome foes upon the morrow. Your favor is the armour in which I gird myself, the shield to cast aside all blows.'
|
|
'Well put,' Lady Melisende replies, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she adds, 'although were one able to reduce my grim guardian to laughter... without resorting to magic... I may have cause to reward such a fine and challenging jest handsomely.'
"Then I will have to consider how best to storm the man's humor. Lacking armor, I doubt a frontal assault will bring me any fruits - I shall have to resort to guile and trickery if I am to bring down the facade of his humorlessness." He winks roguishly. "Thankfully I am in large supply of each. I look forward to your reward."
Lady Melisende laughs,
'A flirt as well as a fool, I see,' she counters, 'I must tread carefully, lest I cause a scandal by succumbing to your charms, oh witty one!' she laughs again, then nods, 'But my thanks for your counsel on the appropriateness... or lack of the same... of my spellcasting. I suppose I'll have to leave the summoning of hordes of devils to another day...' once more, you're unsure of whether she's joking or not...
"Think of me not as a flirt, good lady - consider me one of those Andoran leaders, forced to cling to my position through popularity instead of divine - or for that matter, profane - right. A few honeyed words are much more memorable than simply restraining my tongue, for nothing is less notable than one fool's silence at a feast, where so many other fools are forced to make themselves known as well. If am to keep my place, it is through flirting, counsel, stories, or whatever other words I might speak."
Walking alongside Sir Garrett, Aydan grabs stops one of the attendants with a smile and deftly grabs a goblet of wine for himself and his highborn friend, "My thanks," he says before turning to offer the extra cup to Garrett.
As he does this, Aydan will keep an eye open for any friendly or familiar faces, perhaps someone he met while in Hanz' company, or one of the many knights who have competed in tourneys before. Or failing that, a pretty face.
Private residence...
Scowling, the armoured man responds,
'Surely not? No culture would elevate their mistakes, the evidence of their inability to constrain their own carnal desires, to the ranks of the nobility! Taldor cannot be so decadent as to...' he trails off, shakes his head in what seems to be disbelief, then recoils his whip, thrusting it back into his belt. Bowing... a little stiffly... he says,
'But I sense the truth of your words, however alien they may be. If such is the way of your culture, then so be it.' Straightening, he stares at the two Ladies-in-waiting, and adds, 'It seems I have breached the established etiquette of this place, this society - and such things must be preserved above all else. By your leave, Ladies, if you could see your way to directing one of your slaves to answer my original question, I must suffer a reckoning for my lapse in judgement. You will, of course, report my conduct to your Baron, and any other appropriate authority, and I will make myself available for whatever punishment is traditional.'
Despite the man's sudden change in attitude, he somehow manages to seem as forceful and as powerful a presence as ever - even if he was beaten and cast down amongst the dogs you suspect he'd still be terrifying...
"Such matters are the Baron's responsibility. Hopefully his justice will teach you the proper respect."
With this, Beatrix turns and strides away.
|
|
The Great Hall...
'I face fearsome foes upon the morrow. Your favor is the armour in which I gird myself, the shield to cast aside all blows.'
'I shall have to find something... appropriate, to use as a token...' Lady Ailith offers quietly.
'It seems our Sir Clarius has hidden talents as a poet!' the Baroness exclaims with a smile.
'Yes,' the Baron offers, with a mock scowl, 'very well hidden indeed...' although Clarius does catch his Liege offering a secret smile of his own as he and the Baroness turn away to talk to other guests. Ranulf likewise excuses himself, the 'serious business' done for moment...
"Think of me not as a flirt, good lady - consider me one of those Andoran leaders, forced to cling to my position through popularity instead of divine - or for that matter, profane - right. A few honeyed words are much more memorable than simply restraining my tongue, for nothing is less notable than one fool's silence at a feast, where so many other fools are forced to make themselves known as well. If am to keep my place, it is through flirting, counsel, stories, or whatever other words I might speak."
Lady Melisende laughs,
'My dear little man,' she retorts, 'were you to enter politics you'd vanish beneath a sea of fools greater than even you can imagine...' she then glances towards the door leading to the tower stairs and sighs a rather exasperated sigh, 'You don't suppose my Hellknight has gone and gotten himself into trouble, do you? Be a dear and run upstairs to see if he's alright, would you, little man? If he's been this long, he's probably flogging someone... or himself... by now...'
Private Chambers...
"Such matters are the Baron's responsibility. Hopefully his justice will teach you the proper respect."
'I doubt it has such influence, dear Lady,' the armoured man retorts, with the slightest of bows, 'if it's failed to teach you even basic manners in dealing with guests of the Imperial Crown...'
Turning to the halfling slave he orders,
'Just dump her Ladyship's belongings on the floor here - it seems we're to camp in the hall like common servants...'
While not quite 'dumping' anything, the slave hurries to place the many loads she's been waiting with in a neat pile in the corner of the room, before returning to the armoured man's side, head bowed and hands behind her back...
Entering Lady Rebecca's room again, Beatrix finds that the birthday girl's dressed, but still to fix her hair and makeup... instead she's sitting at the window with the shutters open and the cool breeze blowing in, staring out into the night...
The Great Hall...
There's the usual rounds of rumours and gossip going on...
Although the Lady Rebecca's hand in marriage isn't the prize for the tournament, it's universally understood that a good standing at the tourney will help garner Baron Otto's favour when it comes to contemplating marriage proposals for his daughter.
Sir Philipe is considered unbeatable, and his record supports that - anyone betting against him is a fool, but betting for him would gain one hardly any return on the investment - it's that clear-cut that he's going to win.
General consensus is that the Grand Prince would move to block Lady Rebecca marrying a titled noble, for risk of creating a dangerous new power-block if Baron Otto was to die without a male heir, and such a husband of Rebecca's ended up inheriting the Barony. Thus a lot of those who've arrived to compete are the second and third sons of noble families.
Sir Philipe is going to win the tournament, even if he's one of the few not interested in the Lady Rebecca, and his participation has many of the younger and less wealthy competitor's worried, for the man's skill at unseating his opponents in the joust is renowned, and he makes his fortune by claiming their mounts and armour.
Despite the Grand Prince's fear of his tenants-in-chief gaining too much individual power, those with a keener eye on the political landscape estimate that he'd allow Lady Rebecca's marriage to a titled noble who's main holdings were on the opposite side of the Empire to the Barony - as the required negotiations, deals, and offerings to move resources between the two holdngs, not to mention the time spent to manage two such holdings, would likely play into his hands both economically and politically... thus Lord Geoffrey of Thevia is, in fact, seen as a favourite for the winning of Lady Rebecca's hand.
Sir Philipe's reputation, though deserved, was won at tourneys where he vastly outclassed the opposition... he's never been to war, and rarely faced a significant challenge. While it's doubtful he'll find such a challenge at this tournament, many tongues are wagging on the possibility of Philipe facing the Hellknight Thibault - on the one hand, most everyone would like to see the braggart Philipe taken down a peg or three, on the other, no-one wants to see a Taldan lose to a Cheliaxian...
Viscount Thevia's ward, Lady Ailith, grew up in the Frostward, and was blinded in a disasterous assault by frost giants around twenty years ago, in which her family was killed, as well as the previous Baron, Otto's father, and many others besides. To anyone's knowledge this is the first time she's been back to the Barony of her birth since that terrible time. Lady Ailith's father was an old war companion of the previous Viscount Thevia (Geoffrey's father) which is why she was fostered there, and not by the Redwyrm family.
Sir Philipe fights in all the disciplines of the tournament, although he excels in the joust. Even on foot his favoured tactics are to charge and slam his opponents to gain an advantage, then to finish them off with powerful blows. Lady Ilaria's magical speciality is enhancement magic, and she can (and does) boost her husbands strength and stamina at a touch, when required, as well as placing enchantments on his weapons whenever he's set to fight an opponent which might be a challenge for him... the pair prefer the odds stacked way in their favour...
Sense Motive
Diplomacy
Dancing and entertaining guests, Kerdin was moving around as he watching guests. Listening talking and always up to date of situation, Kerdin sighed Always the same... but that lady Melissande is more dangerous than we would like to have here, but seems like nothing to do. Hopefully that Hellknight is also stranded
Time to time taking a look at Baron and Baroness, Kerdin did what he was meant to: entertain guests, keep them happy as gather information and make sure nothing foul was happening in Great Hall. Noticing Lady Ailith and Sir Clarius, Kerdin moves closer to them and softly speaks It is good to see you here today, Lady Ailith. Seems to me, that you are enjoying yourself... and evening is still young without speaking of whole night and small laughter carries out.
"One drink won't hurt friend. Besides you don't want to appear worried to your competition." Spying that the Baron and Baroness seem to have a moment free, Aydan takes a deep breath, May as well go poke the embers... He muses to himself, "If you'll excuse me Sir Garrett, I'd like to take a moment to speak to our Lord and host."
Aydan excuses himself from Garrett and makes his way over to Baron Otto and his wife, his smile sparkling as he comes up to them. He offers a bow to them both,
"My Lord, you've outdone yourself as ever, I would say things are off to a fine beginning," he then turns his attention to Baroness Hilda, offering her a similar bow and, if she'll allow it, kiss her hand lightly, "And my Lady, you look simply stunning, I'd swear the Goddess Desna herself had chosen to grace our good Baron's halls this eve."
Diplomacy:
"'Fair', my Lady, is as you say, within the rules of the contest. As such, using magic to assist your husband is perfectly fair in terms of the rules of the joust, though one could argue that it isn't particularly sporting, considering there are those who cannot afford such luxuries. Of course, it also begs the question as to whether your husband can actually win a joust without your...enhancements...or if his many victories should in fact, be laid at the feet of his wife, who simply wins the battles for him."
A pause.
"No disrespect meant, of course."
|
|
Lady Melisende laughs,
'My dear little man,' she retorts, 'were you to enter politics you'd vanish beneath a sea of fools greater than even you can imagine...' she then glances towards the door leading to the tower stairs and sighs a rather exasperated sigh, 'You don't suppose my Hellknight has gone and gotten himself into trouble, do you? Be a dear and run upstairs to see if he's alright, would you, little man? If he's been this long, he's probably flogging someone... or himself... by now...'
Zurladew bows low. "Your bidding will be my pleasure, milady. I shall do my best to bring him here." As he leaves, he cracks wise, speaks smart, and otherwise interjects into a number of conversations, all while keeping his ears open for information. Upon reaching the doors to the hall, he immediately sets off for the Lord's chambers to find the errant Hellknight.
|
|
"Your bidding will be my pleasure, milady. I shall do my best to bring him here."
Heading up into the Baron's private residence, Zurladew can't fail to see the imposing plate-armoured man standing the the middle of the upper hall, apparantly getting more and more annoyed, with a halfling slave by his side, and piles of luggage in front of them both...
The Great Hall...
'I am content knowing you favor me. Anything you deem appropriate is too much for me.'
It is good to see you here today, Lady Ailith. Seems to me, that you are enjoying yourself... and evening is still young without speaking of whole night
Ailith blushes once more at Clarius's praise... then practically turns scarlet at Kerdin's suggestive comments!
'I quite agree, Master Kerdin,' Lady Ailith responds, 'it's sometimes better not to speak of the whole night...' then adds, in a whisper, '... at least, not publically...'
"My Lord, you've outdone yourself as ever, I would say things are off to a fine beginning... And my Lady, you look simply stunning, I'd swear the Goddess Desna herself had chosen to grace our good Baron's halls this eve."
'And you're as silver-tongued as they say, lad,' the Baron retorts with a grin. The Baroness pulls her hand quickly away from Aydan as he kisses it, her cheeks as crimson as Ailith's as she scowls,
'Please do not encourage the boy, my Lord,' she pleads of the Baron, 'he takes too many liberties as it is...'
'Aye,' answers the Baron, with a wink, 'I'd heard that gossip from the maids too...'
"No disrespect meant, of course."
'Oh, of course not,' Philipe retorts, with a smile, 'thankfully I'll happily lay my victories at my wife's feet - we're a winning partnership, and I'm not one to let my ego get in the way of admitting that. But why am I telling you this? I'm sure a man of your standing has won plenty of tournaments, and can thus afford all the magical aid one might need to participate at the highest levels... No? Ah well... maybe you'll be a challenge next year..?'
Laughing (and not in a nice way...) Sir Philipe escorts his wife away from Sir Jaymin...
Sir Jaymin goes to find Sir Garrett, Sir Claudius, and any other of the Baron's knights who will be competing in the tournament, for a little conclave concerning Sir Phillipe.
"I have grave concerns about this Sir Phillipe. Certainly not like I had with Sir Guy and his cheating ways, as everything this Phillipe does seems to be above board, but just his whole attitude. Even though magical assistance is legal, it's not terribly sporting. Of course, neither is ganging up on a single opponent, but it might serve to humble the man a bit...and avoid having Lord Otto's honour besmirched too much should all of his champions fall one by one to the man."
|
|
Sir Jaymin goes to find Sir Garrett, Sir Claudius, and any other of the Baron's knights who will be competing in the tournament, for a little conclave concerning Sir Phillipe.
"I have grave concerns about this Sir Phillipe. Certainly not like I had with Sir Guy and his cheating ways, as everything this Phillipe does seems to be above board, but just his whole attitude. Even though magical assistance is legal, it's not terribly sporting. Of course, neither is ganging up on a single opponent, but it might serve to humble the man a bit...and avoid having Lord Otto's honour besmirched too much should all of his champions fall one by one to the man."
"Unfortunately, that tactic would only work in the Grand Melee. The duels and the joust are another matter. But I do agree, he does seem to need to be taken down a notch."
And you're as silver-tongued as they say, lad,' the Baron retorts with a grin. The Baroness pulls her hand quickly away from Aydan as he kisses it, her cheeks as crimson as Ailith's as she scowls,
'Please do not encourage the boy, my Lord,' she pleads of the Baron, 'he takes too many liberties as it is...'
'Aye,' answers the Baron, with a wink, 'I'd heard that gossip from the maids too...'
"Gossip, M'Lord? of me?!" Aydan grins ear to ear, his voice rife with pretend horror, "Point me to the knave who's caused such rumor of me, I must defend my honor." His cheer is genuine and relaxed, despite his trepidation over the truths of his parentage, Aydan's always enjoyed talking with Baron Redwyrm.
"Though I do pray you'll forgive my 'Liberties,' my lady. I've learned from greater men than I," he nods to the Baron, "That with those whom you'd trust, it's better to speak true than hold one's tongue." At that he does give a slight nod of concession, "Though I'll admit that perhaps I'm not so good at know when such behavior is appropriate."
He chuckles again and motions around the hall, "Still my words weren't false. You've done Bec.." Aydan stops his sentence and his eyes flick to Lady Hilda, and again he smiles a small smile and nods to her, admitting his slip up, "You've done Lady Rebecca proud, both of you." He ponders his own words with a sip of his wine, "You would have been proud of her today, My Lord and Lady. She defended your honor against The Thevian Viscount and defended your people against Bloodbristle. Don't let the girl's own doubts cloud the truth, she'll grow to be a true leader." He sips again, his mood a little less jovial than before before, but still quite happy.