Dubhaine Family/Brigdha/Roleplays/2017/December
10th Dectember
Day -- An Najaf
Brigdha
"See dear, this is how your father plans to bring peace to the North," Brigdha passed her brass spyglass to her young companion and guided her eye to the encampment in the valley bottom where various prominent knights were lecturing a captive audience of An Najaf's leading families on liberty whilst armed guards looked on.
"My father wants to-" Glory's tone was indignant.
"Shhsh m'lady," Kris put his finger to her lips, "we don't want to attract attention."
"My father wants to bring them freedom," the fire in her young eyes matched her insistent whisper, the spyglass for the moment forgotten.
"Oh Glory, you have a lot to learn about life if you think freedom can be imposed with a sword," Brigdha put a hand on her shoulder.
"And what do you know of freedom!" Glory pulled away, shaking with anger.
"You ask me that?" a wry smile soured Brigdha's lips, "I've fought the war your father now fights and it cost me my sister, my niece, my grandniece - all the line of blood which binds our two Houses. And you ask me what I know of freedom? I've known your father since long before you were born Glory, and I've seen him at his best... and at his worst - neither were amenable to reason," she took the spyglass and returned it to her satchel.
"And who are you to judge him? A interfering old busybody who spends her days talking with fat merchants and ignorant peasants!"
"A interfering old busybody perhaps child, but I'm old enough to have seen this story play out before," Brigdha turned to the valley below, "and that's why I don't judge Garas. I pity him."
Alfhelm Sussex
Alfhelm had been in a commandeered inn, reading a book of Sirionite history, when one of his network of spies and scouts reported to him that the woman he had been seeking to speak with for some time had been spotted.
"Are you sure?" he asked the scout.
"Yes m'lord. She was accompanied by a young girl and a handful of servants. The militia spotted her but let her pass, however they noted the house sigil on one of her possessions. She is undoubtedly of the House Dubhaine. I left two men to monitor her movements covertly."
"Hmmm," mused Alfhelm. "Well I suppose that she does have free right of movement under our laws as both a priest and a diplomat, so the militia acted properly."
He rose to his feet and put on his cloak.
"You did well to keep her monitored. Take me to her."
Sometime later Alfhelm and the scout rode up to the place where the priestess had last been spotted, overlooking a valley encampment of Highmarchian forces.
Captain Baldric had nearly had kittens when Alfhelm had insisted on travelling alone, but had obeyed orders and kept the Sussex Lancers confined to guarding the inn.
Thus the Representative for Winkamus was quite alone when he dismissed the scouts and rode up to the rise and called out "Hail Lady Ambassador! Might I join you?"
After all, there was no need to startle them and end up with a knife in his eye for his trouble. That would be a most unsatisfactory end for the next Vox of Highmarch.
Garas Gabanus
Goran said "I suppose...Hello Father...and how are you would be the best way to start the conversation." he said with a smile on his face.
Garas just looked at his son, the Prince of Oligarch, although he seemed just am anxious boy now, damagednin some unknown way. It hurt Garas a bit. All he had tried was to protect his family and he has felt a failure since the day he got captured, tortured for months unable to help them, only to find Catherine disappeared upon his escape. Now he saw his son for the first time in years and he just felt pity and shame.
In his younger years Goran was such a playfull boy, who loved to sing and play. He was good at it too, although Garas always insisted on his military training, making him strong. He now misses those times, those songs and the smile Catherine had when she heard him sing. Those were the only times she smiled around Goran, but now that smile is gone and no song will bring it back.
This and much more went through his head as he looked at Goran and so he smiled and looked sad at the same time.
"Now that you have returned I am a happier man," he said "Perhaps now it is time for us to have your sister return as well. Now come and sing me one of your songs."
Rand Al Thor
As Rand walked amongst his men, he wondered if the region of An Najaf would bend to the will of the Highmarch forces and come willingly into the fold and protection it can offer.
Scanning the horizon he didnt notice any signs of enemy forces planning an assault. Though there was lots of movement in the camp all seemed in order, except, yes that is Lord Alfhelm riding out of the camp, strange to go riding so late.
Dismissing the Lords movement from his mind, as he is but a Lowly Knight and Lord's movements is not his concern he enters his Field tent and reads his last received orders from Lord Garas, instructing him to temporarily take command of An Najaf once the region has been annexed.
Looking at Victor, his scribe sitting with the latest reports and messages he say's,
"I wonder if these orders are still valid, these where issued before we where routed from An Najaf, best would be to get clarification. Victor, pen a Letter to Lord Garas and ask for instructions regarding An Najaf and if my last received orders still stand. Make haste and send our fastest messenger"
"Aye My Lord it will be done with all haste"
Sitting back in his chair he ponders the outcome of this campaign, and a time he is back in Aestus looking after his people and Estate.
Brigdha
Message sent to all nobles in the region An Najaf (50 recipients) Hrolf watched the lone horseman approaching the bluff from his hide, the dust from the horse's hooves drifting lazily on the light summer breeze back towards the distant detachment of lancers. Judging by his bearing and finery the man was a high-ranking nobleman and Hrolf's trained eye unconsciously measured the angle of his killing shot as the horse drew into range.
"Hwuuuurt!!! Hwuuuurt!!!" the rider's approach had been marked by a second pair of eyes, perched a quarter-mile away in the branches of a parched oak.
"Pyrwhipt!! Vyroot!!" he returned the signal, easing the bowstring.
"And what might your business with the Ambassador be, young lordling," a stooped crone wrapped in a ragged cloak, leaning what little there was of her on a gnarled staff, limped slowly and painfully from the undergrowth.
Alfhelm Sussex
As his horse trotted towards the bluff Alfhelm felt, but could not see, eyes watching him. He could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck and it took a conscious effort not let his hand drift to his scabbard.
When the crone called out to him and emerged from the undergrowth, Alfhelm brought his horse to a halt and dismounted, patting her flank.
"Good day to you grandmother," he greeted her respectfully, inclining his head a fraction.
"I am the Chief of Commerce of Highmarch, and Representative of Winkamus. I have, for some time, been seeking to treat with an ambassador of Shadowdale on behalf of the south. I also wish to offer her my hospitality, should she wish it, while she is in An Najaf."
Alfhelm furrowed his brow as he tried to make out the face half hidden by the hood of the cloak.
"Are you a servant of the Ambassador? Could you direct me to her? Or," he said, an idea suddenly occurring to him and his eyes widening, "is this some cunning disguise? Am I in fact addressing the great lady herself?"
Garas Gabanus
While most of his men were off giving freedom celebrations in the city, Garas decided to move towards Alfhelm's camp as he wished to discuss a few matters with him. As he arrived at the camp, his captain at first refused to tell him where his master had gone, but Garas placed his hand upon the shaft of his sword without actually drawing it and looked at Baldric with a most evil of looks. It's unclear whether or not it was his hand on his sword, or the look, the face of a burned man, or perhaps his reputation of being highly temperamentful, it didn't matter as ultimately Baldric told him where his master had gone.
"Lady Brigdha is here?" he walked towards the horses of Alfhelm's camp, cut one loose and as he got on he turned to Baldric "You, make sure word is sent to Prince Goran Gabanus of Oligarch, do not make me learn you haven't. Tell him to meet me at the Ambassador's place and tell him where it is! Now go!" and as such he rode away himself. Baldric must have looked confused for a moment as this man was not his master, yet gave him orders.
And so Garas rode out, perhaps a few minutes behind Alfhelm, on his way to Brigdha.
Brigdha Dubhaine
"It seems the lad's perceptive m'lady - for a southerner..." Kris rose from the ground beneath Alfhelm's mount, spooking it, dust falling from his cloak as he sheathed the wicked hooked knife in his left hand.
The crone took a step forward, eyes gleaming beneath her cowl, mesmerising the steed, "You're just upset Kris that your party piece wasn't needed."
"Hrolf! Anagrith! Stand down! Seems lordling's off the menu today!" the bushwhacker grinned as his voice boomed over the bluffs.
"So it's an Ambassador you seek is it?" the old woman let the hood fall away, revealing straggly white hair and a toothless grin, "Then I suppose I should oblige."
The crone's hands moved with surprising swiftness, her staff rising and falling in a single fluid movement entirely at odds with her hunched, misshapen form. The butt struck the ground with a dull thud, and as it did a great many subtle glamours fell away, limbs straightening and flesh plumping, fabric mending and wood warping as the Balancewalker resumed her courtly form.
"Countess Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale at your service Representative Alfhelm. How may I be of assistance?"
Alfhelm Sussex
Alfhelm managed to maintain his composure when the knifeman rose from the ground, but utterly failed to do so at the countess's transformation.
His eyes watched with fascination and amazement as her appearance transformed.
This is true magic, he thought, this is real sorcery, not the nonsensical mutterings and hocus pocus of the mages of the Tower of High Sorcery back in Isadril.
When Brigdha had finished her transformation, Alfhelm realised, to his chagrin, that his mouth was slightly open. Closing it, he regained his composure and turned first to the knifeman, Kris, or whatever his name was. He would let the snide remark about being a southerner pass, but there was one matter which he would not - and which would allow him to cover his embarrassment at acting like a slackjawed fool at Brigdha's transformation.
"Your devotion to defending your mistress is admirable," he said sharply "but it is extremely rude to startle a perfectly innocent horse. Daisy's a gentle soul and could do without cut-throats appearing from underneath her."
Then he turned back to the countess and bowed deftly, before smiling disarmingly, his boyish looks and cheerful blue eyes for once working to his advantage as they made it clear he was definitely no threat.
"Lady Ambassador, it is a delight to meet you. Firstly, I bid you welcome to what should, by dawn, be Highmarch. As a priestess you are welcome here and I would be pleased to offer you my hospitality should you wish to stop observing us from afar."
A knowing, mischievous smile touched his face for a moment as he said this, before his tone and countenance became more serious.
"Secondly, however, I wish to enquire under what terms Shadowdale would be prepared to withdraw from this war. I understand fully that that would be the kind of conversation which would require lengthy correspondence, but I hope that would be a discussion you are willing to entertain?
"Thirdly, and somewhat contradictorily, I had considered asking whether you would be interested in making your home in Highmarch and bringing Aureus with you - but if all of Shadowdales warrior are half as skilled as your men then I suppose you may be too confident in defending it to consider joining the other side."
The last he said with a wry smile at his own expense for he had been truly astonished at what he had witnessed. Was this Sirionite sorcery? Or was it the Way of the Shadows? Or something else entirely? Either way, he thought ruefully, it was unlikely he would ever find out.
Garas Gabanus
Garas rode the horse quickly, pushing it forward with every movement, hastening to his goal. When he was close he could see Brigdha transform in front of Alfhelm's eyes, although he was still too far away to hear what they were talking about. Garas didn't care much about any of it. He didn't want to know why they were meeting, it didn't even cross his mind. All he cared about was reaching her as quickly as possible.
"Lady Brigdha, up to your old tricks I see," he said with a smile, but before he allowed her to answer he quickly added "Where is she?" Before he had finished speaking he had unmounted his horse already and let it go. The horse stood still, most likely well trained, but none of it caught Garas' eye. It wasn't even his horse after all.
Brigdha Dubhaine
"Excuse my hotheaded cousin Lord Alfhelm, his daughter's been in my charge for some time, studying at the Grey University in Karbala, and he's anxious to be reunited," there was a brief rustling in the bushes and an unarmed young woman emerged, dressed in russet serge tunic and leather riding britches.
"Papa!" the girl's face broke into a guileless smile as she rushed to embrace Garas, "Oh Papa! I've missed you so much!"
"Glory's studies have progressed well," Brigdha's face remained impassive as she watched the reunion, "Her tutors say she has a natural gift for scholarship."
In the months since Brigdha spirited her great-grandniece from the Siege of Oligarch she'd become very fond of the girl who was now almost like another granddaughter to her. Well, perhaps not a granddaughter considering her complicated relationship with Etain, but certainly the girl commanded that same fierce affection which cemented the Dubhaine matriarchy.
Returning Glory to her father's influence when she still had so much to discover about the Dubhaine ways was far from ideal, but Garas was not a man to be trifled with, a ragged scar consuming the fabric of reality. To see that gentle jade flame guttering as the winds of limbo roared all about it brought back memories of Queen Catherine lying in that darkened high chamber, surrounded by the stench of madness and decay. The sorcery Brigdha worked to save the Queen had cost her dear: two great years of slumber, her soul adrift in the High Firmament...
A heartbeat, then a second, then a third.
Brigdha turned to the young Representative from Winkamus, "It's my duty to talk peace Lord Alfhelm, even when the prospects seem very slim indeed. But as to Aureus, well my people are a quarrelsome bunch and forthrightly attached to the Shadow King's beneficent rule... as I'm sure your friends from Fallangard can attest."
