Goldwater Family/Wolfram/Troyes

Troyes

Roleplay from Wolfram Goldwater

Message sent to All nobles of Eponllyn

A small group of riders interrupted the calm evening at the ducal estate in Troyes. Rushing past the guards at the gate, the arriving soldiers dismounted their horses in the courtyard, cloaks and weapons alike covered in dust. Their leader turned to an approaching servant, hurrying to investigate the unwanted visitors. "Inform her Grace of my arrival, we have been travelling since dawn." "And whose arrival would that be, if you don't mind me asking?" "Tell her, Wolfram Goldwater has come."

Wolfram Goldwater (Noble of Eponllyn)

Roleplay from Aila Storme

Message sent to All nobles of Eponllyn

Many men had left Aila’s life, but very few ever came back. Goldwater seemed to be a name that made the exception, appearing over and over again throughout her life. A reminder of Perdan, a reminder of loyalty, and what it means to have trust shaken. “Bring him here to me.” Aila’s voice is soft and unbothered as she leans over her heavy oak desk situated in the top of the farmhouse estate she had made her home. The bills and ledgers recording all the damages she could not pay for were pushed aside, and instead of them an expensive silk skirt had been laid out. Still dressed in her court clothes she looked more elegant than her surroundings. Where most of her lavish riches had been carted away elsewhere along with her son long ago for safekeeping what remained was plain and practical. When Wolfram is brought inside, he arrives just as a pair of shining silver shears slices through the garment, leaving a pile of laces to tumble to the floor in a graceful pile. Aila does not look up from her work, though stoops to retrieve the discarded lace and folds it into a neat parcel while she addresses him casually. “It is really you. What happened for you to leave?” Her words said one thing, but her face said another. When she finally meets his eyes briefly before lifting her skirt and flipping it onto its other side with a flourish it is clear on her expression: Why have you come back?

Aila Storme (Duchess of Northern Eponllyn)

Roleplay from Wolfram Goldwater

Message sent to All nobles of Eponllyn

"Your Grace." Wolfram offered Aila a bow with his head, straightening his cloak. "War goes on and on everywhere. I have been... delayed." A small, devilish grin flew across his face, highlighting a scar across his right eye, still red and obiously quite new. "But my sword was yours..." he bent his knee, still looking up at the gold-haired Duchess "...and still is. I have come to honour my pledge."

Wolfram Goldwater (Noble of Eponllyn)

Roleplay from Aila Storme

Message sent to All nobles of Eponllyn

Aila spares her knight another glance, one which hid her concern but was not able to hide her anger with him. Scathing words flood her mind, but she busies herself with threading a needle with silk to match the silk of the skirt in front of her rather than let them fly. A rare moment of temperance in her, perhaps she was grow up at last, or perhaps she was just tired. Rather than howl at him about how his sword means nothing if it disappears so often, she begins pulling the thread through the fabric deftly, creating the start of a new hem where the lace had been torn off. "You may stand" The words are biting, filled with frustration for Wolfram. Should she tell him to go? Ask him to stay? Arrange his estate again? "Where did you go?" Ugh. Disappointment with herself hit her stomach like a stone dropped from above, why should he think she cares where he went? "Is your eye alright?" Stop it Aila. "I wish you would tell me before you leave-Ah!" As she mentally chides herself again the needle in her hand slips straight into the pad of her pointer finger, where she had neglected to place a thimble. Blood drips quickly onto her skirt and she turns away from her knight holding her curse words in as she squeezes her finger in anguish more mental than physical. I should've just yelled at him. "Nevermind, Sir Wolfram" She turns back to him, looking utterly defeated as she makes that realization that she had managed to ruin something related to everything in front of her in quick succession. Her image, her pride, her finger, her skirt. "I will arrange your estate...Is there anything else today?"

Aila Storme (Duchess of Northern Eponllyn)

Roleplay from Wolfram Goldwater

Message sent to All nobles of Eponllyn

"No, M'lady. Thank you." Without turning his back to the Duchess and following another, this time much deeper bow, Wolfram silently retreated back out the door again and towards the courtyard, only his footsteps and clinking of his hauberk accompanying him through the hallways.

Wolfram Goldwater (Noble of Eponllyn)

Roleplay from Aila Storme

Message sent to All nobles of Eponllyn

She looks him over one time as he bows deeply. His armor is functional but nothing more, his hair a cropped tangle and the wound he had showed to her moments before was an ugly one; yet Aila never had comment or qualms about his appearance, never having offered to dress him up in dyed leather and embroidered tunics emblazoned with falcons. For whatever reason he always seemed to look fine to her however he arrived. In the end he thanks her, and the Duchess just nods weakly in response. Left alone Lady Aila pulls her hand off of her pricked finger and pops it straight into her mouth, furrowing her brow as she does so. Sensibly she knows that Wolfram has no obligation to explain a thing to her, similarly she knows she could easily demand answers with dismissal as a threat...But as the sound of his awful armor dissipates into the estate and toward the door she knows that he has no qualms about walking away from her. There is a tightness in her chest that she denies outright, inspecting her finger again to find it had stopped bleeding instead of running to the window to see if he had really gone. Aila lets out an audible huff, filling the empty room with the sound of frustration at herself. 'At least he is a competent fighter; or was with both eyes' she reasons, glaring at the skirt she had stained mere moments after taking it upon herself to alter it.

Aila Storme (Duchess of Northern Eponllyn)