"I guess I'd better get your horse ready for you. Wow..."
"Not so quick little lady." Foerde says. "I still have a frame to build." He says standing up and then takes off the cloak. "After we hang that story of yours I want you to pack a traveling bag with a few days of clothes. In the mean time, why don't see what kind of trouble Riordan is getting himself into."
Foerde walks back into his room and puts the cloak away. After that he goes back to his shop and starts working on the frame.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
Dominica hasn't had a hot bath yet, but a maid did bring her a basin of cold water to wash her face and hands.
Roald still stands guard near the door, as does the other man. Neither man looks very tired-- perhaps they slept in shifts through the night?
Dominica didn't sleep so well. Most of the women who had lain on couches and pillows near her gossiped, whimpered, snored, fidgeted, or prayed all night.
Resigning herself to her fate for now, the red haired woman has made herself as comfortable as she can near the elder silver haired woman.
In the morning, along with her cold water and such, she speaks with the elder woman in hushed tones.
"Good day, milady. I hope it is better than the last." She smiles and continues.
"This Sir Roald, he looks like the Old Duke, does he not? Like the painting of the Old Duke, here in the castle, yes? Is it not strange that this Roald be here, under these circumstances? I, as a lady of the court wonder these things. I am sure, you do as well, milady."
The woman's face barely twitches when Dominica refers to herself as a 'lady of the court.'
"I really hadn't noticed his looks, but since you ask, I think he looks like what he is: a soldier. You might be careful, Lady...ahhhh...I don't recall your name, forgive me. You might be careful of what you say. Some people in this room might misunderstand your words. Not I, of course, but others."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
"I guess I'd better get your horse ready for you. Wow..."
"Not so quick little lady." Foerde says. "I still have a frame to build." He says standing up and then takes off the cloak. "After we hang that story of yours I want you to pack a traveling bag with a few days of clothes. In the mean time, why don't see what kind of trouble Riordan is getting himself into."
Foerde walks back into his room and puts the cloak away. After that he goes back to his shop and starts working on the frame.
Foerde works on the frame while Gael packs her things...
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Dominica smiles at the elder woman. "I am so sorry, madam. I am Lady Dominica Bariilia of the family Barilia of Ruorven, Coeryanys."
She speaks in a low tone, but it is apparent to the elder woman that Dominica is indeed a noble woman. Whispering now "I do agree with you, madam. Might I know your name? And why do you think this Roald looks like the Duke?" She smiles at the elder woman.
"Do not try to deny it. I can see it and you have shown it as much with your reaction to this Roald through your young friend."
tarlyn wrote:Dominica smiles at the elder woman. "I am so sorry, madam. I am Lady Dominica Bariilia of the family Barilia of Ruorven, Coeryanys."
She speaks in a low tone, but it is apparent to the elder woman that Dominica is indeed a noble woman. Whispering now "I do agree with you, madam. Might I know your name? And why do you think this Roald looks like the Duke?" She smiles at the elder woman.
"Do not try to deny it. I can see it and you have shown it as much with your reaction to this Roald through your young friend."
''I'm afraid, Lady Dominica, that you must have misheard something I said in the excitement of last night's disturbances. Forgive me, but I find myself in need of refreshment. I must go."
The older woman rises, and followed by her maid, walks to the door.
The guard (not Roald, but the other man) opens the door and lets her out of the room.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
"I guess I'd better get your horse ready for you. Wow..."
"Not so quick little lady." Foerde says. "I still have a frame to build." He says standing up and then takes off the cloak. "After we hang that story of yours I want you to pack a traveling bag with a few days of clothes. In the mean time, why don't see what kind of trouble Riordan is getting himself into."
Foerde walks back into his room and puts the cloak away. After that he goes back to his shop and starts working on the frame.
Foerde works on the frame while Gael packs her things...
The frame isn't Foerde's best work but it is serviceable and will hold just fine. With the frame finished, goes back into the house and hangs the framed tablet in living room.
Entering his room, he changes into more suitable traveling clothes and begins putting on his armor.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
Devlin clasps Braedonnal very roughly by the shoulders with both hands.
"By the gods old and new, yes! Yes we will crush them!"
The dukes face takes on a somber look.
"There is a chance I could fall in battle, and if that happened, Tuornen would be without a duke. That cannot happen. Braedonnal Tuare, my father always told me that within you beats the heart and soul of what it means to be Tuor. Your fire is what brands us as Tuor. If I die out there, Haelyn noble and just protect me that I do not, but if I do, Brother, you must guide and protect the land. So If I fall out there, you'd better damn well not. That's an order!
"But before I sound too much a woman, lets make as many of those Alamien's pay for this transgression. I need you to go out there and whip whats left of the men into formation. From what I saw last night theres quite a few mercs and irregulars out there. I have reports that Alam's emptied his dungeons to swell those ranks. Send a runner to let it be known that any prisoner from Alamie's jails that surrenders to Tuornen will be provided political asylum. That may or may not shake their morale.
The mercs and bowman are a problem. Mercs do not fight with honor so I know that Haelyn does not favor them in battle. Target their commanders. When mercs lose leadership, they lose sight. They fight for coin, not for the protection of their homes or their families. They are killers.
I will lead the assault against Alam's regulars. Haelyn, Lord of noble war, and patron of Anuire, lead my sword to a just and rightous victory."
Devlin nods a dismissal to the Elf and turns to Fhylie.
"Grandmaster, it is plain that I venerate Haelyn above as my spiritual guide, but I know that his son has been the spiritual leader of my people for generations. The mighty stormlord has protected the people and I ask you to use what power or magicks you can to help push the enemy from our land. When I was young my father, our beloved late duke, told me that the Militant Order would come to our aid and that they harbored many powerful weapons to help with that aid. While he never told me the specific weapons you held, I ask you now to unleash them upon our foe."
Devlin listens to her reply, and then nods a dismissal as well.
Taking a drink of pure water, the Duke continues.
"Sir Rory, during my corination I saw a few foriegn nobles at court, including a red haired foriegner. Yes, the same one I dismissed from my bedchamber yestermorn. Who is she?"
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"Seven Seals...Seven Rings...Seven Brides for the Scarlet King..."
The cool, clear weather looks unlikely to hamper his travels.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
If the elf is troubled or excited by being put in charge of affairs in the event of Devlin's death on the battlefield, he doesn't mention it. He nods in agreement at each of Devlin's specific orders and says only-
"As you say, so I will see it done. And may we win a great victory!"
And then Hotspur departs to be about his business.
Fhylie tells Devlin-
"We can call endeavor to call down storms on them, if the weather turns our way. And maybe the river itself will fight for us, Your Grace. I will gather the resources of my Order and begin the work at once."
She departs as well.
When he is alone with his duke, Sir Rory relates a tale of 'Lady Dominica.'
"She drew steel on me after I informed her that she would be safe with the ladies of the court. The guards moved to subdue her, but she threw down her blade and began a vile, salacious speech. The woman grabbed her crotch like a common whore, my duke. And then she stripped naked in front of all present, changed her weird suit of leather and buckles for a gown, and flounced off with the guards. I have been told that she repeated her strip-show in front of the sell-sword Roald and one of your men, not to mention the ladies and their maids. Most shameful."
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Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
As he watched the women depart, Roald rolls his shoulders to work out the cramps. The hours of standing and the fight with the toy had taken their toll. He hoped he'd be relieved and paid soon. Roald wondered if he could enlist one of the Castle's washerwomen to clean the blood out of his clothes. He'd leave the cleaning of his mail to Reese.
I hope the boy didn't get into any trouble while I was busy, Roald thought to himself.
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."
Varrus the Ethical wrote:As he watched the women depart, Roald rolls his shoulders to work out the cramps. The hours of standing and the fight with the toy had taken their toll. He hoped he'd be relieved and paid soon. Roald wondered if he could enlist one of the Castle's washerwomen to clean the blood out of his clothes. He'd leave the cleaning of his mail to Reese.
I hope the boy didn't get into any trouble while I was busy, Roald thought to himself.
A guard arrives to relieve Roald of his watch.
The young man smiles at Roald and offers an open hand to shake.
''The Castellan wants to see you, Roald. He said that you should wait for him in the mess hall. "
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Roald hesitates before he returns the handshake. "Ah...right, of course. I could use a meal. I just hope Sir Rory doesn't plan to pay me in peanuts. I hate peanuts." Roald departs for the mess. That's odd, guards don't usually like to shake my hand. Must be happy to see me go.
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."
Devlin smiles at Rory's report"She grabbed herself how? Oh my. Well, I did get to enjoy that body of hers. But her manner does seem a little disrespectful to ladies of the court, and there Sir Rory is where I am concerned. Many of those noble women are losing their sons on the battlefeild. If the castle gets taken, I will not allow the Alamiens to rob them of a generation of their blood strength. It has happened to often in our countries history. The women must be proteted at all costs.
"Where is this Dominica from? What if any alliegences does her family hold to mine? Drawing a blade on my Castellan during wartime is tantamount to treason."
"Seven Seals...Seven Rings...Seven Brides for the Scarlet King..."
JMaytr wrote:Devlin smiles at Rory's report"She grabbed herself how? Oh my. Well, I did get to enjoy that body of hers. But her manner does seem a little disrespectful to ladies of the court, and there Sir Rory is where I am concerned. Many of those noble women are losing their sons on the battlefeild. If the castle gets taken, I will not allow the Alamiens to rob them of a generation of their blood strength. It has happened to often in our countries history. The women must be proteted at all costs.
"Where is this Dominica from? What if any alliegences does her family hold to mine? Drawing a blade on my Castellan during wartime is tantamount to treason."
Sir Rory (the Castellan) replies-
"No allegiance whatever, Your Grace. She claims to be from Coeryanys. Her patent of nobility seems clear, but I suppose it could be a clever forgery. She certainly does not behave at like a proper noble lady, nor does she seem to have any servants as would befit a woman of gentle birth."
He frowns.
"And there is more. Another mechanical assassin struck last night. Roald, the sellsword, destroyed it in single combat, but not before it slew a page. It went straight to the room where 'lady' Dominica was being held. I suspect it had another target, though...'
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Varrus the Ethical wrote:Roald hesitates before he returns the handshake. "Ah...right, of course. I could use a meal. I just hope Sir Rory doesn't plan to pay me in peanuts. I hate peanuts." Roald departs for the mess. That's odd, guards don't usually like to shake my hand. Must be happy to see me go.
The guard smiles again and wishes Roald good luck and good eating.
...
In the messhall, Roald finds a mix of soldiers and watchmen eating stew served in trenchers and hunks of black bread. Beer and ale flows freely.
Reese walks up to his master. The boy grins.
"I think we've got work for a while, boss."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
