Giles von Hearthwick's page

As the taller, men left the room, Giles gestured to two of the guards who had followed your group inside. He closed the doors behind them as they exited. "We shall await your leisure outside, Lady Ourson."

And with that, Lady Ourson, her two companions, and four guards were ushered forth from the Gallo estate in food-stained finery, to the mild surprise of Master von Hearthwick. With a snort and a twitch of his mustache, he commented simply, "Dirty business, politics," before helping the shell-shocked ladies into their carriage.

With no further word or judgment, he closed the door and clapped his hands twice. "Very good then, back to the Palace we go. Her Highness shall wish to hear of your escapades."

"It would be inappropriate for a retained to don ceremonial armor for an informal and unofficial engagement such as this, Lady Ourson." With a sniff, he added, "Military formal dress is reserved for official functions, not strolls about the trade quarter. In any event, I shall have a carriage awaiting your leisure at the west entrance of the residence by 1 o'clock sharp."

"Your Highness, it is Dame Amhranai, shall she await your leisure in the parlor?"

Wrinkling his nose a bit at the ranger's astute observation, Giles clapped his hands twice quickly and nodded to the royal guards positioned outside the throne room. After saluting, they quickly hopped-to, clearing the way into the vast and lofty chamber at the heart of the Palace.

Entering ahead of the rest of you, Giles heralded the ruler's entrance in his deep, booming voice, "Her Royal Highness, Princess Alissariel of Silverwake, Vicereine Appointee of Dafar!"

"Your Highness," Giles had interrupted as Alis sat gazing at the distant Pantheon, "The Right Honorable Hior Celadrendir, Minister of the Treasury; and the Highly Learned Luca Petronius, Master of the Fraternal Association of Builders await your leisure in the audience chamber. Shall I send for Lady Ourson, Sir Hellhammer, and Master Hithraen?"

Giles drew a deep breath, allowing himself only a single twitch of his mustache at the slaughter of his name. "It is von Hearthwick, dear girl, and we are quite fortunate to have had enough deviled eggs for everyone after you swept in like a hungry vixen."

Even as Sasha's shoulder's slumped, lip pouting as much from guilt as disappointment, he added, "However, I do believe there are yet two halves remaining on the serving tray if you are quick about it."

It was a nearly a mile from the lush gardens of Villa Sempronius, past the tall, white-stone walls of the palace, to the foot of Sentinel Bridge, the long span that joined the main body of Port Eldarion to its more rustic Elvish Quarter. As the driver turned the carriage to the south, warning bells could be heard from a tall tower over-looking the river, and those crossing the bridge hastened off as the twin bascules comprising the center-most span pivoted upwards to allow a tall ship from the Ilmarondi convoy to pass up-river.

"This city does not lack for skilled engineers," Giles remarked quietly.

Past the city's Port Authority the bustle of trade and commerce grew louder, the pace slowing as the driver carefully navigated on Trade Street. As the horses plodded along, the sound of men laboring and working stone could be heard. There, on a promontory bounding the northern edge of the harbor, laborers were still hard at work clearing the rubble and the shattered corpses of slain inmates from the remains of the ruined penitentiary.

It was shortly thereafter that the carriage drew to a halt just outside the long wharf at which was docked the largest ship currently in the city. Prince Tyralor's great galleon, The Zephrys. Clearing his throat, the butler reached into his coat and withdrew a bouquet of flowers which he handed to the younger dwarf. "I believe you will be needing these, Sir."

With that, the old dwarf hopped out of the carriage more nimbly than one might have expected, and set down some steps for his charge. With stevedores and sailors looking on, he announced to the soldiers guarding the approach, "Kindly inform your master that Sir Hellhammer of her Royal Highness' household requests permission to come aboard. There is a young lady we are calling upon, Ms. Torwald."

LK Calendar: Uniens 22, 4210 — Rosday
Time: 4:30md (afternoon, 4:30)

"A date, I see..."

When Giles followed Darvesch into one of the stately black carriages that stood at the ready in case it should be needed, he thumped the side wall twice to get the driver's attention. It was only when he said, "The Harbor, 1st pier," in common, that it occurred to Darvesch that the two had just naturally been conversing in the familiar tongue of their people's homeland.

As they got underway, the older dwarf commented. "We are coming upon the supper time customary amongst Aramol's noble houses."

Smoothing his mustache by spreading his thumb and forefinger as he thought, Giles continued. "The sailors have been long at sea and this is their... fourth day in port. If Prince Tyralor is the man I think him to be, his crew will chiefly be taking their shore-leave, not dining in the galley. If the woman you are meeting has a duty to cook, I could satisfy that obligation in her place if her master and you permit it, Sir."

"As to the other matters you weigh, there are spices sufficient for this hour's need in my trunk aboard Her Lady's Grace, but the palace kitchens are hardly serviceable yet."

"My humble suggestion, Sir?" He waited for Darvesch to bob his head. "You have been given leave of your duties today to visit this woman. Do not shoulder additional duties in their place. If this woman was drawn to a knight, show her an adventure, not a cook."

The older dwarf bowed to the Princess and her guests as he departed with Darvesch.

"Mushrooms and turnips should be easy enough, in the common markets, Sir. Ortlokean seasonings, will be harder to come by. I suspect one would have to either canvass the grand Arcade of which the ladies spoke, or reconnoiter the markets in New Viamaré. As for arcane reagents, The Enclave on Tol Lonnduil seem a sure place. Perhaps Lord Poe might be of some aid on that account, his aunt and uncle's tower bounds the southern edge of that marketplace."

As the two marched out towards the carriage landing, Giles asked, "If it is not too much to ask, Sir, is there some greater purpose to our outing than these errands? Her Highness mentioned a rendezvous at the Zephrys."

Note: Darvesch and Giles have left the building. ;)

"Very good, Highness," he said with a bow. Motioning towards the entryway, he continued, "If you please, Sir Hellhammer, it would be my privilege to see to your hospitality."

The old dwarf lifted his chin, hands clasped before him and began, "Her Highness has received only the finest education as befits a lady of royal birth. She has followed a rigorous regimen in matters pertaining to diplomacy, lore, and etiquette, studying at only the finest academies in Caen Carrinac, Silverwake, and the grand university in Malatesta."

"Furthermore, even the acclaimed bardi of our King's court regard the Princess of Silverwake as a prodigy of musical inspiration. To honor this great gift, the abottesses of the Sacred Muse tutored her Highness in sacrosanct techniques that aspire to transcend the gulf between mortals and the divine."

"In other words," he concluded, "training suitable for a Princess of the Eldar and one fourth in line to the throne of the Ilmarondi Empire."

Having recited what he knew of his mistress' formal education, the old butler bowed low and excused himself in order to attend to Lureene's sweet suggestion. For her part, Alis seemed satisfied with Giles' accounting, merely nodding thoughtfully as if reminiscing.

Even as Sasha nodded fervently, the old butler cleared his throat and asked, "While I fulfill said request. If it would please your Highness, might I also have the honor of satisfying his Lordship Poe's curiosity?"

While Amhranai listened to the Princess and troubled herself over what might or might not be wrong with Isaac, the clatter of glassware heralded the butler's return. In his strong arms, the old dwarf carried a wide tabletop laden with fresh fruit and nuts, honeycombs, tortes, small shortbread cakes, and several jars full of cream and custard. Behind him another two servants carried racks of plates, dishes, utensils, urns of hot water for tea, and bottle of dessert wine.

Without interrupting, the chief domestic immediately set about unloading the contents of his impossibly laden tray onto a long buffet table against the east wall, his assistants quickly assembling their wares in preparation for serving the executive guests in their care. Quickly and efficiently, the old dwarf donned a lengthy white apron and with a deft touch began slicing the cakes, tortes, and fruit.

First there was the shortbread doused in a fragrant sherry and layered with jam. Above this, an arcane touch whirled rings of sliced fruit into place around the perimeter of each dish. Within that space, were layers of custard, and sweet berries were alternated. Finally, they were topped with pure white whipped cream and whole strawberries garnished with shavings of chocolate and mint leaves.

As the old dwarf finished things up, employing spellcraft to ensure the right serving temperatures, the other servants furnished all those present with their preference of tea or wine. It was not long thereafter before he presented the Princess with his creation upon a gilded platter. "Your Highness' favorite, Estorian Trifle."

The sound of a rising melody from the great hall had just begun to waft across the gardens when into the study strolled a mildly confused Poe and the itinerant butler that had been marching him about. Bowing to the Princess, the old dwarf departed as silently as he had arrived, no doubt intent upon overseeing the delivery of his mistress' dessert personally.

It did not take long to reach the study. In typical Malatestan fashion, it was located in the center of the home, with tall columns on one side overlooking the estate's central hallways, while on the opposite wall, a long balcony overlooked the great peristyle garden. It was to the south, across that very garden where the Princess still held her luncheon.

Dutifully, the old dwarf arranged the cushions on a few chairs and divans before offering the three nobles some fine, liqueur. When Sasha breathed a sigh of relief and reached for a glass, he took her hand and used his monocle to get a good look at her ornate vambraces.

"Young woman," he scolded, "what shall others think of our Princess if her handmaiden's retainer is seen jittering like a nervous hen in rusted armor?"

A wiggle of his nose made the dwarf's moustache shudder, and he folder his arms across his barrel chest. "Now then, chest out, back straight, chin up, and eyes forward."

At each order, Sasha jumped as if struck a blow, and indeed there was an audible clank as the dwarf spoke.

"Hmmph..."

With a crook of his finger, a small container of polish and an old rag flew to work, buffing and polishing the wide-eyed redhead's armor of their own accord, a deep frown on the butler's face as he concentrated.

As one of the servants rushed off to notify the Princess, the insistent sound of someone clearing their throat demanded the attention of those in the atrium. Turning, the four found a grey-hair old dwarf, his beard shaved in favor of an impressively groomed mustache that met his neatly trimmed mutton chops. Coupled with his neatly knotted bow tie, starched collar, and tailed black waistcoat, he gave off a rather distinguished appearance. At first glance, the fellow seemed somewhat hunched in appearance until he hefted Sasha's chair by the end of one leg. He was not hunchbacked at all, but rather massively powerful!

Adjusting the monocle over his left eye as he held the heavy seat as easily as a lady might her handglass, it occurred to Lureene that she had seen him before, at Ilmarond's embassy in Malatesta.

"Young lady," he said sternly, somehow looking down his nose at Lureene in spite of the fact that she was more than a foot taller than him, "unless one happens to be the King, then one simply does not deign to have a member of royalty hop-to at their whim."

A snap of his thick fingers summoned an unseen servant to clean up the mess Sasha had made, while he set her chair back against the wall where it belonged with a loud, "Hrrumph!"

With that, he began making his way back into the manse declaring, "I imagine that should her Highness wish to speak with you, she would do so in the privacy of the study... not the entryway. Please follow me if you have forgotten the way."

A balmy spring breeze rustles the papers on the table sending them to the floor. With an apology, the old butler closes the balcony door and sets about gathering up the documents.

Once the princess has seated herself at the head of the table, he hands them to her and excuses himself with a bow. In short order, the remnants of breakfast are cleared away soon replaced by fresh pastries and piping-hot black tea.

Shortly after you enter the garden sanctuary, an unlikely sight appears. Following you in with great platters of food piled high along his arms is a grey-haired old dwarf. His beard has actually been shaved in favor of an enormous handle-bar mustache. He wears a monocle over his left eye. Coupled with his neatly knotted bow tie, starched collar, and tailed black waistcoat, he gives off a rather distinguised appearance. At first glace, the fellow seems somewhat hunched in appearance but then you realize that he simply has a very powerfully back and shoulders.

Without disturbing the tranquil silence of the man-made grove, he sets the silver platters down on portable wooden trays he carries under his other arm before bowing. He makes certain to close the windowed doors behind him as he exits, and draws gauzy green curtains over them from the outside.