Cathay/RP/Steward

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Martin Regan was a man of middling years, and had served as steward of Anacan for most of his long life. Though Anacan had seen the passage of lords, rulers, and their kingdoms it was not often that a steward was replaced. Being such the case that Martin was a refined and stalwart shepherd, he had weathered storms that had toppled many a kingdom, remaining to pick the pieces up and start again.

Of average height and a slight build, Martin was not an imposing figure as one would expect of an individual who welcomed you into the home of his lord's estate. Regardless, he kept stiff control of the estates servants, and always seemed to be one step ahead of his lord's needs. Martin knew the role of his position, and his long years of service could easily be accounted for.

The grand hall was the largest room in the estate. Having been used to accommodate banquets for kings it could easily provide room for 100 nobles and their various retinue. A high reaching ceiling, easily two spans in length, added to the immense feeling that this room provided. The northern wall was draped top to bottom with large windows giving a splendid view of the sea to the north. For banquets held during the day the large expanse of windows easily provided enough light for the entire room.


“A most fine arrangement,” Ranulf replied. He had not grown accustom to such over-zealous treatment having just previously been a simple lord of a small badlands region in Lasanar, and most recently as Grand Justicar of Cathay. Though the position as judge in a realm carried significant weight it was often leverage that must be applied instead of assumed by others such as in the case of Mr. Regan. Yet, every time Ranulf tried to turn down an offer of service he found three other matters attended to by Mr. Regan before he himself even knew of them. Indeed, the old steward of Anacan seemed most adept at letting his lord know just what his lord needed.

“Such is the price of a good steward,” Ranulf mused in his head, intent among all things to not offend Mr. Regan. Though he would never suspect foul play or outright aggression from the man, a steward had many ways of making his lord's life miserable if he felt rightly provoked.

Feeling confident he had hidden his brief amusement, Ranulf continued to nod towards Mr. Regan as the other continued to explain the course of events. Everything from the placement of the lights, to the entrance of the entertainers, and down to the smallest detail of when announcements would occur and when he should stand.

“But what of food?” Ranulf interjected the question in a tone of distress. Despite attempts to procure grain from other lands it looked as if his coronation would be as splendidly outfitted as his two brief predecessors.

“A wonderful arrangement of salted pine cones my Lord,” Mr Regan assured in his usual monotone.

“This sounds like some ruse of the late Lord Ardeus...” Ranulf commented doubtfully. He sighed, remembering the event. He felt a mixture of fondness for the humor in his late Lord and sadness for his passing.

“Not at all, m'lord. Why, the food and drink was of my planning to begin with.” Mr Regan replied indignantly.

“Drink?” Ranulf asked instinctively, a surge of hope flooded his thoughts. Had the old steward a hidden stash of vintage wines and aged ale to be brought out for the event? Almost as soon as the words were spoken, Lord Ranulf regretted the question.

“The finest casked water this side of the island, and locally made.” The monotone was beginning to grate. This event was not about he alone, and he had so desperately wanted to give his people relief and reward for their labors.

“Wonderful...” said Ranulf with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Perhaps the old steward was insane.