"Ah...that reminds me," Dame Sarrona speaks up after a brief whispered conversation with her daughter, "A messenger arrived from Restov today. It would seem they are requesting volunteers of all the noble houses..."
Lander rolls his eyes.
"Business..." she said quietly to herself, ignoring the fuzzy man and the bottle of red for a moment. It has been a while and her funds are... well she isn't quiet sure what her funds were at the moment, which is a real problem. This is unlike her, very unlike her. Lose one father figure to undeath and slit the throat of a bloated hag and then all your faculties go to poop, apparently.
If it wasn't for those damned dreams, maybe sobriety would be more appealing.
"A cup of coffee, first. Please." adding the latter when she remembered her manners. She pass over a coin, glance over to the booth in the back, giving a nod and a finger (not the middle one she reminded herself quickly) in a gesture of a moment please. She'll pull her brain from the wet fog as much as possible, down the black liquid kick to the head as quick as she can, and then do her best not to stagger her way back. After doing a mental check on the placement of her long knives, and that she had her boots on. Important that, always know where your boots are.
Kan's number one lesson. His stench, stained rotting teeth, reaching for her. "NO, no memories, no WALLOWING, get to business. Stupid wench." she yelled at herself.
She'll give a pleasant smile, a curtsey without a skirt, and introduce herself, while watching and noting all she can, given the circumstances.
If Sophie is surprised by the presence of a rider, she does not react. When the rider approaches, she holds up a practiced finger, one loaded with the subtle implication that ‘her time is more valuable than yours’, then returns her hands to her reins and turns to face the rider, smiling, ”you do me a great honor with such flattery. I presume immediately, then?” She watches the rider’s face for signs of duplicity. Anyone can wear our colors.
Everything orderly and in its place, and Dunstan slides the relevant books a little bit closer to his mentor, gesturing slightly to the final numbers. "As important as this is, I would do more. A bookkeeper could do as much, and more on this world needs righting than a few columns of numbers. "
At dinner when Orri overhears his Aunt comment on volunteers and Restov he rolls his eyes and gives his sister a knowing look as he thinks "Is that why you asked me to come, you knew I was already planning on going and wanted to try and absolve anyone else in the family of the responsibility?" He shrugs and shakes his head not sure if that was her intent or not but thinks "I hope you haven't spent too much time around these jackels, where it's rubbing off on you..." Finally he speaks up "Well, for what it's worth, I had already heard of their call and was planning to strike out on my own for this expedition. So, perhaps that will fill the families obligations."
Once done, they nod you back towards the booth, and the other two men step forward to join the others in maintaining a perimeter. The booth is well placed for private conversation, no reason to pass by to rooms in the back, no windows, not even a good line to the fireplace to shine much light into the corner. Just the lone candle sitting on the table, in front of the small figure sitting at the table with a hood over their face.
Once you are seated, the bottle of wine is placed on the table before you. When the barkeep is far enough away, a pair of well manicured, feminine hands reach up from beneath the table and pull back the hood. "Hello, niece," your aunt, Lady Natala Surtova, says quietly as her features become evident. "You've been very very busy for a dead girl."
The scroll bears the seal of House Garess:
Justiciar Isengraef,
I hope this message reaches you in good spirits, Justiciar. I write to you to request your audience regarding a request from the Swordlords of Restov. As you may have heard, they are planning expeditions into the Stolen Lands to help bring order to the region. I have been tasked with seeking out a representative to send along with the expedition, and have considered several candidates. Though your father protests it, but Toval and Jusiticiar Isaac have attested to your skills, and recommends you highly for the task at hand. If you would do me the honor of meeting me within the keep this evening to discuss the venture in person, I would appreciate it.
Lord Howlan Garess
Protector of Highdelve
"Yes," Elanna adds, "it sounds so exciting, doesn't it? Heading out into the wilds, sleeping on the earth under the stars, taking on bandits, barbarians, and rampaging centaur." The statement is laced with just enough sarcasm to make it detectable.
"I should be going," Lander interjects without looking up from his plate. "It is my responsibility."
Lady Sarrona shoots him a look full of daggers laced with Daggermark venom. "I have already told you, your place is here. You will be taking your rightful place in the family soon enough, and have those responsibilities to tend to."
"Yes," he replies dourly, "responsibilities like bowing to my sister and her future husband's beckon call. Being their little errand boy."
"Brother, I promise to only have you fetch my shoes once or twice a week," Elanna quips back at him with a smirk.
Icy dread poured down her spine at the sight of her aunt's eyes. Sobriety was sudden and also suddenly unwelcome. How, Why! What the flipping hells were all great questions but secondary to the most important.
How was she going to live through this?
Dear Aunt Natala was not known to suffer any whispering rumors about the family. Hanging was the most common solution, but a quiet stabbing and a unmarked grace seemed the most likely in this case.
Three seconds it took the tearing panic to subside. Three very long seconds, coupled with a quick but through glance at the guards, wondering if she had any chance to run.
No. Only one hope. Bowing slowly and as deep as the table will allow, she answers with soft respect "Your majesty, I am honored you remember me, and am humbled that you would spend your precious time in finding me." rising she'll look back to her aunt. "I have been surviving, that is all. And of course, I am at your service."
If Natala needs something, she might live. If she didn't, she probably would have been gutted silently. Or at least that is her hope, her only hope.
Sophie smiles brightly at the man, ”of course, I was just finishing up a patrol, anyway. Shall we ride back together? Oh, and where are my manners,” Sophie blushes slightly, ”I did not ask your name, Sir...?”
She approaches on her horse and focuses her attention idly on the rider, detecting whether they or anything nearby is otherworldly, but only idly, as a reflexive action. Gurev has taught her to bring whatever skills she can to bear to any situation, so long as others do not become aware of it. She nods, as if to say we depart when you are ready.
Orri considers protesting at first, knowing Elanna probably convinced Lady Sarrona to send Lissal away and in all honesty they weren't that close for him to know if his sister could even really handle herself out in the wilderness now. He looked to Lissal and waited to see what she thought about this turn of events before adding anything more.
Dunstan quickly reads the letter and lets out a little grunt. Good. If he had to stay indoors all day, he might have well stayed in the mines. He looks over to Isaac, and gives half a nod. " It's a good thing I've finished, then. If you've no questions on the figures, I'll be on my way. It appears I may have a new assignment."
He slowly gets up to head back to his sparse room. There isn't much he owns, but he gets it ready in a pack just in case. He prepares himself for the meeting. There is much he could do to hold back the lawlessness in the stolen lands.
That evening, he approaches the keep with sure footing. He would hear the Lord's request, and knew he would likely accept unless it was odious. The lawlessness of the lands hurt trade, hurt people, and needed righting. What little he could do, he needed to do.
She doesn't wait for a reply, trusting the weight of her statement makes refusal an impossibility. "As to your service. The Swordlords and their Rostlandic allies are up to something. Issuing a call to arms throughout Brevoy and her neighbors, for some mission into the Stolen Lands. Some sort of settlement enterprise. I suspect it to be a ruse to develop allies for their impending rebellion against the Crown. And I would see to it that it doesn't go as planned for them."
She takes a sip of wine and adds "I want you to go as our representative. Unofficially, of course. However, you will be sponsored through a series of proxies whose trail will not be able to be linked to our House. You are to report to me and me alone, when asked for it. And should further...expectations...be needed of you, I shall make certain you are aware of them."
The ride back to Stoneclimb is uneventful, and Atticus is quick to dismount and handle your horse for you as you do the same. You make your way through the familiar halls of the keep and find your uncle at his desk, looking over various messages. He looks up as you enter, "Ah! Sophie. Come in, come in," he says as he stands. "I have something for you..." he says as he walks with you over to the window. Looking out over the city you can see hundreds of people milling about tending to their work for the day. A farmer and his hands herd a flock of sheep through the streets on their way to an auction block. The market is bustling, and some children can be seen playing in the streets.
He reaches down and takes up a large object covered in a red and black linen sheet. He pulls it back and reveals a beautifully made suit of lamellar armor, the Medvyed Family Crest emblazoned proudly on the chest piece. He holds it out to you as a gift.
Inside you see a weary looking Lord Howlan Garess and a young, regal looking Toval Golka standing over a desk with various notes and maps strewn about them. They stand silently waiting for you to enter before Lord Garess states "Welcome, Justiciar. I hope this summons was not at an inconvenience?"
Lander had always been decent enough to him and while he suspected his cousin probably still felt that he was better than Orri, since he was a bastard, at least he didn't flaunt it like the others.
Nae. No inconvenience. If I can be useful to the realm, I am glad to be of service.
Dunstan walks in with purpose, taking note of the map.
Now, how may I be of help?
Dunstan stares at the lord, not taking a seat nor putting his things down. He tries to discern the mettle of the men before him. He does not have too much experience with high-born folks, but won't let himself be talked down to.
He gives a nod to Tolva as he moves back to the map. Tolva nods in return, a look of sympathy to his adopted father. Tolva steps aside with you, placing a hand on your shoulder. ”Come, Brother. Let us talk,” he says as he leads you out into a side chamber.
”आप तलवारबाजों को जानते हैं, हां? रेस्टोव का? उन्होंने स्टोल लैंड्स को बसाने के लिए एक नए उद्यम के लिए सक्षम शारीरिक पुरुषों और महिलाओं के लिए एक अनुरोध भेजा है। हम नहीं जानते हैं कि वे किस कार्य के लिए समर्पित हैं, लेकिन फिर भी, वहाँ की अराजकता को समाप्त होने की आवश्यकता है। उन्होंने सदनों से प्रतिनिधियों को भेजने का अनुरोध किया है, और लॉर्ड ग्रेस के अपने संसाधनों ... को बढ़ाया गया है। उन्होंने मुझे किसी को सक्षम खोजने के बारे में देखने के लिए कहा, और मेरे विकल्पों को देखने के बाद, मैं आप पर बस गया। आपके पिता दृढ़ता से इसके खिलाफ हैं, लेकिन जानते हैं कि आप अब अपने आदमी हैं। तो, फैसला आपका है। क्या आप इसमें हाउस ग्रेस और कबीले गोलका का प्रतिनिधित्व करने का सम्मान करेंगे? आप निश्चित रूप से, किसी भी बीमार के साथ मना नहीं कर सकते हैं आपके खिलाफ आयोजित किया जाएगा। लेकिन मुझे आशा है कि आप हाँ कहेंगे,” he says with a wry smile.
Chrysa listens intently, just as one should faced with a monarch who threatens not so subtly at your death. She does bristle softly at the abandoning the family, but holds her tongue.
At the end she pauses, not to consider the proposition, since it is a given it will be accepted (valuing of ones life and all), but at what questions to ask.
All the obvious ones will probably be answered by one of her proxies, like where she was going, and would just be a waste of her aunt's time to answer. "If someone recognizes me, a prospect I wouldn't have considered until your majesty's arrival, should I silence them or wait on your word? Accepting I will inform them that they are wrong and I have no idea what they are talking about, but sometimes stupidity is persistent."
It is the only one she thinks is worthy of making her aunt answer, a proxy might not ask up the chain and make the wrong choice. If murder is warranted at least her aunt made the call, not that it would save Chrysa of course.
Sophie nods at Atticus, thoughtfully, as they depart. ”Sir Kragath is a just and capable knight, and you seem to have at least performed this task admirably. I am not the easiest person to track down when on a little jaunt in the country. What is holding you back from advancement?” Sophie asks Atticus, a look of genuine interest on her face.
Sophie clasps her hands in front of her and accepts it, marveling at the craftsmanship. ”A lovely gift, uncle, but what would I need such a thing for?” She looks down at the armor, and then at Gurev, curiously. ”You would not have called me back to here if you were just looking to give me a beautiful piece of armor, Uncle.” Sophie regards her uncle impishly, ”this armor has a purpose, doesn’t it?”
She takes a sip of wine and adds, ”Certainly, you understand that running with the coin is a poor decision,” she adds coldly, before standing and raising her hood once more ”Good luck on your venture, and keep me informed.”
Atticus blushes more. ”I...I get nervous...m-make stupid mistakes...” he stammers. It is clear the young man isn’t used to so much direct conversation with a noble-lady.
Gurev smiles at your keen wit. ”Nothing gets by you, my Little Sophie,” he says as he brushes your hair back behind your ear. ”The Swordlords are asking for representatives from the Noble Houses to undertake a mission in the Stolen Lands. It would seem all the houses are at least sending someone. I considered sending Kragath, but,” he pauses as he looks at you and traces the edge of your face with his hand. ”...it is time for you to make your mark on the world. And something tells me that you have been itching for the opportunity, hmmm?”
Aye. I appreciate your honesty with me. Those lands could use some civilization, and I'm glad that you feel that I can help provide some
Dunstan was used to the small area he had grown up in. The mines where his family was from, and where he learned about hard work. The church where he learned about the holy mission of Abadar to extend law and civilization, bringing forth orderly commerce so that people could live good lives. But he had never used his holy training in the lawless wilds before, and the idea sat well with him.
I would like to join their group as your representative, as I hope your goals and mine align. Know that I would bring as much order as I could to these lands."
He heads into his chamber and collects a parchment and quill and writes up a letter before rolling it and placing it in a scroll case and sealing it. He returns it to you and adds ”There you go, lad! That should get you entry into the Aldori Academy where the meeting is to be held. From there, the Swordlords will tell ya what’s next. Tend to whatever business you need to attend and may Abadar and Torag’s Blessings be upon you!”
Chrysa sits and thinks for some time. Not touching the wine, despite the vintage.
Running is not an option. At this point she has no idea how her aunt found her, so until she does, being leashed was preferable to being dead.
Her aunt may or may not know all her history at this point. Vague hints instead of concrete details were thrown, meant to make her wonder, to either assume or fear.
Not knowing bothered the young woman, but at the moment nothing could be done on the matter.
Patience, she told herself. Natala is nothing more than a bigger, meaner, infinitely more powerful Harpy. And the memory of that end still brings a faint smile to the woman's lips.
Hefting the coin, she decided to go shopping, get a room and a bath, and then wait for her instructions.
As you grow nearer your destination, the Aldori Academy, the hustle and bustle becomes more uniform and formal as you find yourselves mingling with house guards of various noble houses, members of mercenary companies, and adventurers and their entourages. A pair of low ranking swordlords stand at the main entrance reviewing people’s papers with a list, turning many away but allowing a good number of people in. Your papers are each checked and you are shown into the main foyer, where you are paired with another junior member of their order who leads you to a central meeting hall with several long tables. Within you see several other folks already present and seated, of note a small adventuring group who are clearly already close, drinking and eating together boisterously. Also, another more reserved group of adventurers sitting quietly at another table off to the side, holding themselves seemingly above the other group, doing their best to ignore their rambunctiousness.
Also there is a large, imposing man in an unadorned breastplate with a malicious looking bastard sword hanging from his hip sitting alone with an untouched plate of food and glass of wine sitting in front of him, with another man standing behind him at rapt attention, covered head to toe in armor, a sword resting tip down in front of him and a shield on his arm. The visor of his helm is down, and his head turns and regards everyone who enters before returning to a forward gaze.
There is room for several more people to join as well. Whatever the Swordlords have planned, it clearly is not a small enterprise...
A young woman, a touch shy of five foot, enters the adventurer's den. Not a child, fully grown, just short and lithe. Her long red gold hair, braided in a wreath around her head, does little to hide the two horns like slate twisting around itself, over and over until curving up into wicked point.
Chrysa thought long and hard about her horns. Without them she may fit into a party easier. Just another human, eager for adventure. But there would be a chance they would be with each other for a long time. Grinding the nubs on one's head was not subtle work, so not easily hidden around a camp fire. Having them would incorrectly brand her a tiefling which while being wrong would help quell any ideas she might be a member of the royal family.
No Surtova was devil touched. No living ones at least.
Her dark eyes, mere pools in the white, take in each group with a slow studious confidence, then she takes to the table with the large imposing man. Not with him, to do so would be imposing herself in his personal space, and one just didn't do that with someone so... imposing. Just at his table a few seats down.
It was a calculation, as most things were. She knew no one, and trying to join a group without knowing the rules or goals would be preemptive. Taking to the table with the most dangerous looking man allowed her to give siphon some of that to herself just by having the courage to do so. If his eyes take to her, she'll give a respectful nod, but remain quiet. Chatty types mostly irritated people. Or at least irritated her.
She pulls the dark leather backpack off, and sets it down in the floor under the table, after pulling the crossbow from the side sheath to place before her. The decent walk to this place warranted a slight adjustment of her coal shaded leathers covering the gray and creams of her clothes, as well as the blackened steel hilts of long knives on either hip before she sits.
"A soup with bread. And water as well, please." she tells the approaching servant, a quick response with the hint of command, without the indifference of nobility. Another calculation. Her gear and bearing would speak of wealth of some kind, but acting as she was taught in childhood would only bring up questions of who she was. And there were only so many missing nobles in their lands. Better to be thought of as a child of the merchant class.
Then Chrysa settles in the chair and waits. Kan's rules number twenty three. In the face of the unknown (a battle or venture of any kind really) wait to see who makes the first move, since they are the one most likely to be the first to die.
"I had figured I'd be best served here to help Elanna." she says as flatly as she can while trying not to shoot daggers at her cousin. "What. An. Honor." she says as turns away from her cousin and looks at a loaf of bread.
Once Orri and Lander are both gone, Bella has questions but she won't speak them with Elanna here. Swallowing her pride she rips off a piece of bread and forces a smile to her face. Turning to her aunt she says with sincerity "Thank you for this great honor, I will give it all that I have and ensure success for this house. I will make you proud of both of us my aunt."
She takes a bite of bread and rips it apart with her teeth, mashing it in her mouth all the while pretending it's Elanna's face she's mashing.
Sophie thinks for a moment, ”everyone makes mistakes – even me. I am clumsy, for example.” Looking at how nervous Atticus is, she sighs at him, slightly annoyed ”don’t be intimidated by people like us… stop, and look at me.” She waits for Atticus to rear his horse and turn to meet her eyes, ”we’re just people, like you.”
She continues, holding his gaze steadily before looking away to guide her horse down the road. ”By happenstance, I was born to this family, though it took a few years to get myself situated. Luckily, you were born nearby as well, I assume. Oafs, or cads, or worse rule many of the other baronies in Brevoy. You have a better chance of making something of yourself here than most places – use it. Learn from your mistakes by getting to know yourself, and don’t be afraid to be self-critical.” She looks back at Atticus and smiles at him.
Sophie gets a serious look on her face, "the stolen lands, to the south? That morass of swamplands?" frowning, she withdraws a bit from Gurev, cocking her head, "we should speak plainly now, assuming there are no prying eyes." She concentrates briefly around the room, scanning for otherworldly presences. Satisfied, she says "what would you have me do? I can leave, but who will keep you safe from the machinations of the Surtovas?" She watches Gurev's response, "though, perhaps by sending me there, you are keeping all of us safe..." Sophie appears contemplative.
You return to the dining hall, and hear Lady Sarrona saying ...finally pay off. He will be expecting you in five days time...”
Sarrona adds ”Well, I trust those fencing lessons with Sir Fervourblade will finally pay off? He will be expecting you in five days time...” she pauses as Orri returns to the dining hall.
Atticus at this point is a lovely shade of crimson, and struggles to meet his gaze to yours when you command it. The best he can muster despite your assurances is an awkward, silent nod to your reassurances.
”I’ve never known you to not speak plainly,” your uncle retorts with a smirk.
At your concerns, he places his hands on your shoulders and looks you in the eyes. ”Sophie, I’ve done the political dance with the Surtovas since before you were born. I will be fine. As for what you are to do there: I trust you to do what is best for you and our House. You are wise, and charming, and smarter than most of the men in my command. Use those talents. There, you won’t be bound by the social hindrances a woman faces here in Brevoy. There, you can make your own life, if you want it. Take it by the reigns and ride, niece. I will be here to aid you as best I can.”
A knock on the door draws his attention. ”Enter,” he calls out. Sir Kragath enters and bows. Gurev looks back to you and says ”Sir Lightbringer and his company will provide escort for your carriage to Restov, and once you are safely delivered, will return here.”
Kragath looks to you and bows his head. ”My Lady.”
Sophie nods, smiling a little. Kragath enters, and she turns to him, with a kind smile, "good to see you again, Sir Lightbringer. Atticus was remarking to me ask he escorted me home from one of my foolish jaunts that he was your squire. He seemed to think quite highly of you, but has been doubting his own ability. Which seemed odd to me, as he was quite capable at tracking me down and retrieving me. No small feat. Perhaps you should encourage him to emphasize his natural talents more? Not all of us are born into the exact mold of a knight from birth - sometimes, as I'm sure my dear uncle would attest, the mold must bend slightly, wouldn't you agree?" Sophie watches Kragath's face, hoping to convince the knight of her point.
Isabella takes Elanna's jab in stride as she has grown accustomed to recently. She replies with a polite smile "Indeed Elanna, I am not worried at all. I look forward to this opportunity."
Isabella takes the offered dress into her hands and it looks it over. She nods in deference and thanks her aunt. "Thank you Aunt Sarrona, it's beautiful. I will wear it with pride." She looks over to Orri and back to servant. "Uh, Richard. You forgot to bring Orri his as well." knowing full well that Richard did not forget anything.
She turns to Orri as he enters, her eyes pleading Please Save Me.
He turns to the door and stands aside, extending an arm offering for you to lead the way out. "If it pleases, My Lady, the carriage and men are prepared. Would you like some assistance in gathering any of your personal effects you might need?" he asks with a genuine smile.
The servant looks to Lady Sarrona nervously, who simply waves him off. He bows and takes his leave. She then looks to Elanna and says, "We have a good deal yet to discuss regarding our upcoming trip to New Stetven, my darling. Let us leave your cousin to speak with her half-brother to discuss their upcoming venture. You should also get some rest, Isabella. It is a long ride to Restov, and I doubt their accommodations are anything as comfortable as those here in Silverhall."
Your aunt and cousin make their way out of the dining hall, talking quietly to one another as they exit, leaving you both alone in the hall for the moment.
"FOR THE GLORY OF THE HOST!" a loud toast comes from the raucous group, which is joined by a chorus of "FOR THE HOST!" from the rest of their number, followed by a clamor of mugs clanking together and laughter.
One of the women at the other table, a middle-aged woman who carries herself with noble air, rolls her eyes and leans over and whispers something to one of the men sitting beside her. Chrysa can see from her position across the room, however, that beneath the table, the scantily clad woman on the other side of him is running her foot up and down that same man's leg, and his hand is resting on her lower thigh. Studying the scene further, she can see that he and the older, more regal woman, both are wearing wedding bands.
Isabella doesn't press the issue, she already knew that there wasn't anything awaiting Orri. She stands as her aunt and cousin depart the room, bowing her head as they leave.
Once they are gone she takes her wine glass and tilts it all the way back, emptying the half glass in several quick sips before collapsing into her chair with a heavy sigh. Looking over to Orri she asks "How'd your chat with Lander go? Ready for our new adventure?"
You arrive in the southernmost reaches of Brevoy after a long travel from your respective points of origin. The city is buzzing with activity, merchants are barking at passers by hoping to hawk their wares, clergy offering blessings to anyone who want it.
As you grow nearer your destination, the Aldori Academy, the hustle and bustle becomes more uniform and formal as you find yourselves mingling with house guards of various noble houses, members of mercenary companies, and adventurers and their entourages. A pair of low ranking swordlords stand at the main entrance reviewing people’s papers with a list, turning many away but allowing a good number of people in. Your papers are each checked and you are shown into the main foyer, where you are paired with another junior member of their order who leads you to a central meeting hall with several long tables. Within you see several other folks already present and seated, of note a small adventuring group who are clearly already close, drinking and eating together boisterously. Also, another more reserved group of adventurers sitting quietly at another table off to the side, holding themselves seemingly above the other group, doing their best to ignore their rambunctiousness.
Also there is a large, imposing man in an unadorned breastplate with a malicious looking bastard sword hanging from his hip sitting alone with an untouched plate of food and glass of wine sitting in front of him, with another man standing behind him at rapt attention, covered head to toe in armor, a sword resting tip down in front of him and a shield on his arm. The visor of his helm is down, and his head turns and regards everyone who enters before returning to a forward gaze. Several seats down from him a servant is delivering a hearty stew and freshly baked bread with a glass of water that appears to be clean enough to have been purified to a young woman with a pair of horns arching back over her head.
There is room for several more people to join as well throughout the hall. Whatever the Swordlords have planned, it clearly is not a small enterprise...
Sophie returns the smile to Kragath, ”that is good to hear, thank you for your confidence in him. Something tells me that he will not let you down.” Pausing briefly, she continues, waving her hand dismissively but not unkindly, ”no thank you, I travel light - what I forget I am sure I can muster in Restov or from the wilds. I merely need a short time to collect my things into my bag here, and we may depart. Shall I meet you at the town exit in, say, an hour?” She approaches her uncle and clasps her hands in his, looks him in the eyes and says, ”thank you, it means more than you can know that you’ve put your faith in me. I will not be able to say my goodbyes, and Piotyr may not understand, but I hope that I will bring honor to this family and to Brevoy.” She gives him a light, practiced peck on the cheek, and then bows to him, before quickly but awkwardly running out of the chamber.
Sophiel arrives at the carriage wearing her new armor, accented with a practical outfit as befits a lady on her day of travel, but with accents that scream functionality over form (such as pockets, loops, and other items designed to improve accessibility of accessories) making a fetching ensemble which, to a trained observer, would mark Sophie as an adventurer. Sighing and shrugging with her pack on one shoulder she looks back at the castle and her adopted home wistfully before turning to speak to Kragath. ”Thank you for your assistance in preparing the carriage and escort, Sir Lightbringer. It seems like a great deal of fuss - are you certain we couldn’t just ride?” She scrunches up her nose as she peers into the darkened cabin, then looks back at Kragath.
Sophiel and her entourage arrive at Reatov and wind their way through the streets until they reach the entrance to the building. Sighing dramatically, she curtsies politely to he escort and says, ”You were splendid company, but I believe that I must leap, as they say I Qadira, ‘into the lions den’, alone. Give my regards to uncle, and keep him safe. I will see you all again soon enough.” She smiles at the knights and watches them depart. Once they do, she retrieves her letter of invitation and hands it to the attendant, with an air of purpose and superiority, summoning what height as her slight frame can muster. The guard reads the letter and looks her over, then bows somewhat awkwardly at her before extending his arm into the hall. She smiles sweetly and curtsies again, entering the chaos.
She stops just inside, to the right of the entrance and takes in as much information as she can, surveying everything and taking mental notes on the style of dress, the existing relationships she sees, and the expressions on everyone’s face. She then quietly flags a servant and asks for directions to the facilities.
She emerges a few minutes later dressed similarly, but more stylishly, having incorporated accents into her clothes and styling her hair in a tighter, more practical style. Her clothes appear well-worn and, if possible, more functional, and she wears heavy, durable boots slightly spattered with mud stains. She appears to carry what weapons as she has openly, following the style of the more brash adventurers.
She sees the empty space next to the girl with the horns, and approaches nonchalantly, not paying much mind to the armored men at the table. She catches the young woman’s attention and says to her in a neutral accent, ”is this seat taken? I would love to rest for a bit; it has been quite the journey.” She looks hopefully at the woman, smiling at her, and making conspicuous glances towards the food being served, ”and that - smells pretty good.” She points at the stew.
Watching the posh ones from the corner of her eye, she muses about their relationship. Prostitute? No, too brazen. Not that whores couldn't be brazen, but the regal one had titles, wealth or more than likely both in spades. Any professional would have a bit of timidness even if the woman doesn't mind. Death (or worse) would be easy from a noblewoman to any whore.
Favored mistress, papered courtesan? those were more likely. A measure of protection against any jealousy.
Not that Chrysa think regal cared one bit. Those of rank rarely married for love, or worried if their significant dallied, as long as embarrassment didn't follow.
Still this seemed odd, open caressing under the thin protection of a table, where anyone other than the regal one could see... 'A distraction?' Oh that would be interesting. Fondle to draw the eyes, especially the way that one was dressed. All 'hidden' from the poor woman. Draw in the vultures to either blackmail or whisper alliances for revenge...
Or was that too complicated.
This is how she amused herself as she ate, making sure to eat every bite. Rule 3, never pass by a meal when the uncertainty of another existed. She gave a frank gaze at the trio, to make sure if they were watching, they would notice her noticing, and of course to see if they had any obvious heraldry she recognized.
Then the young woman goes back to watching the others, especially late arrivals, looking up just in time to see...
Chrysa sees the other woman veering her direction. Inwardly, she agrees with the logic, approaching the only other lone woman, seeking a kindred spirit maybe. Pointed eats, Elf? No, too much meat, not enough height. Half then. Or quarter, third? Chrysa never understood why it was always half.
A warm smile in return, a gesture of course you are welcome to sit, then she turns toward the servant approaching, points at her food and then raises two fingers split to show another please. A nod and another smile as it seems they understand.
Turning her dark eyes back to the woman of elven dissent, "I am Chrysa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." she'll say softly. "Where are you traveling from, if you don't mind the question." the woman did imply the need for asking the question of course by mentioning the travelling, Chrysa pleasant interrogation is just being polite.
Dunstan arrives into the crowded meeting hall. He takes a slow look around the room as he approaches an empty seat. He arranges himself in the seat as if he had always been sitting there, and would always sit there. He is content to wait for further instruction.
Sophie nods, and takes a seat. "Not too far - Stoneclimb, in eastern Brevoy. My name is Sophiel, and it is a pleasure to meet you too," she responds, warmly extending a hand to the young woman. "And you?" As she briefly converses with Chrysa, she notices the well-organized dwarf take a seat nearby, and nods at him briefly in greeting.
"It looks as if many of the other people here already have been keyed into this engagement - but I am afraid that my orders didn't give much detail. This seems to be a pretty rough bunch - do you know what's expected of us?" Sophie asks Chrysa, gesturing at the assemblage slightly between bites of bread and stew.
"No" she answers the other woman, Sophiel, allowing her distaste at not knowing be very evident in her tone. Her gaze moves to the other groups, pausing at the dwarf. She had seen him enter, and somehow just forgotten about him. Like he had always been there. Hmm...
"I know little more than three things. One, something in the Stolen Lands. Two, something more than a simple exploration of the territory." Otherwise they wouldn't need such numbers. "And three, something that can't be directly tied to the Aldori. Indirectly seems to be fine." otherwise why hire mercenaries and adventures. She pulls herself out of her own contemplation, and gives a smile to the other woman. "But that is all just guessing. We won't know until our hosts finally arrive. Until then, the stew is delicious, is it not?"
Something the other woman said piked her interest though, so she adds another question, other than the opinion of the stew. "Orders? Are you a member of a military? Oh! Or one of the legendary pathfinders!?!" Chrysa shows slight excitement, but inwardly thinks both options would complicate she is doing here. Whatever that is?
Sophie chuckles a bit and shakes her head, "nothing like that, unfortunately. I come from the east - Stoneclimb, at family's request. There were some orders passed out I think via courier to different people in Brevoy, so I supposed to the Pathfinders as well, that only makes sense." She responds, truthfully to Chrysa, then adds, "And yes, it is very good. I think our hosts must be up to something." She savors the stew. "This is a cut above typical roadhouse slop."
Orri, fashionably late, saunters into the room and takes in the scene while his sister was not too far behind. He saw two open seats near two women and a dwarf and made his way over and asks "Are these seats taken?"
The late arrival of the Lebeda's is solely the fault of Isabella. She insisted on acting the part of a tourist and seeing a few of the more famous sites and locations near the academy before she allowed Orri to finally enter.
The woman clad in leathers that have been worked to a dark maroon with gold trimmings quietly follows behind her younger brother. She wears a a lovely white silk tabard bearing the Lebeda Crest (a swan on water with the sun on the horizon) over top of her armor.
After quietly taking her seat, she quickly searches the group assembled before her and around her to see if she recognizes or knows any of the other crests or peoples faces.
Unfortunately she is so enamored that she's finally stepped into the academy that her eye gloss over in amazement.
Sophie is engrossed in speaking to Chrysa, and doesn't quite notice the new arrivals. She turns in her chair, then looks up and gestures. "No, not at all. There's plenty of room here. My name is Sophie, it's a pleasure to meet you." The black "bear-with-antlers-on-a-red-field" crest is enameled prominently on Sophie's armor, but she is not wearing a tabard.
She smiles at the new arrivals in a friendly manner, standing from her chair and performing a shallow bow to both of the Lebedas, before returning to her seat..
One may notice, with a sense motive check, that Sophie glanced at the tabard before taking her action.
Sophie was extending courtesy to nobility that is typically extended to those of similar rank or title.
Looking about the other guests, you notice that the two prominent groups here each have some sort of markings of their own. The louder, jovial group all seem to be wearing brooches of ebony with golden V’s on them, encircled in gold as well. The more regal acting group are flanked my men-at-arms clad in tabards depicting crossed silver swords over a golden disk.
The quiet man at the table with the majority of you has no insignias or sigils on display, nor does his bodyguard behind him.
A few more groups file in, based on their bearing, sigils, banners, and tabards, and the lack of immediate recognition, it would be fair to assume them to be knights representing the other noble houses of Brevoy.
Chrysa just nods and smiles to the newcomers, introducing herself by her first name, and then listening and watching.