Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/March

2nd March

Night -- Giask

Solomon Greybrook

Solomon, gazing over the coastline of his estate in the distance one more time before heading inland, began to question the decisions that he had made. With some newly recruited infantry, Captain Hadroria, his right hand in the Greybrook Guards, was eager to break the new boys in. Recruited with the best that he could afford, Solomon also was incited by the prospect of travelling, once again. Heading inland however, was his idea. Spending most of his time in the last week or so by the coast, Solomon was bored with the sight. Excited for something new, something radical by his standards, something different.

On the road out of the city, Solomon was captivated by his own thoughts, Captain Hadroria took charge of navigating for the day. As the hours past, Solomon began to doze off. However, as his horse buckled suddenly by a passerby, horrible memories flashed in front of his eyes. In a mere second, they had vanished. "It won't happen again," Solomon muttered, awoken by the jump but startled by the vision. Looking ahead to Captain Hadroria and to his guard with blurred vision, Solomon swore as he wiped his brow of sweat, "Not again. Never again."

4th March

Evening -- Giask

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"So have you finished playing soldiers for the day dearest?" Em arched an eyebrow quizzically as she looked up from her battered paperback, its lurid cover depicting a provocatively dressed blonde and emblazoned with vivid text in an unfamiliar script.

"It is rather expected of me Em," Ciarghuala let the heavy oak door close behind her, shrugging off her baldric to hang Shieldbane from a convenient corner of the four-poster bed. The quarters of the Grand Panetier were functional rather than opulent, a convenience for whichever worthy this Office of State fell to should they need to stay in the Capital for a few days. Still the thick goose-down mattress provided a welcome hint of comfort after a long day on the training field and the Margravine unbuckled her brigandine with an audible sigh, letting it clatter to the flagstones.

"Help yourself to tea. There's a freshly made pot on the nightstand," Em turned a page, her perfect pedicure catching the light as her feet fidgeted with the bedspread, "and Synne is running you a bath."

"How do you always manage to look so..."

"So radiant?" Em's smile lit up the room.

"I guess you could put it that way," Ciarghuala sat heavily on the edge of the bed, tugging at her boots.

"I make it a rule not to waste time on trivialities," another page turned languidly and she sipped her tea, highlighting the differing priorities of the two women.

"Teaching soldiers how to survive in battle is hardly a triviality," boots discarded, the Margravine collapsed on the bed with a heavy sigh.

Em placed her book facedown on the nightstand and turned that disarming smile of hers on Ciarghuala, "I know your work's important darling."

"But you think I overdo it..."

"You know you overdo it dearest," Em placed her head on Ciarghuala's shoulder, "Always on the move, fighting or preparing to fight, and when you're not doing that you're poring over ledgers and account books. Let the weight of the world sit on someone else's shoulders for a while."

"I wish I could," the Lady of Poryatu stared deep into those bewitching eyes, "but that's not who I was raised to be."

"Then at least let me lead you astray this evening. We've been in Giask almost a fortnight now and we've yet to paint the town red."

"I'm not even going to ask where that expression comes from," Ciarghuala ran her fingers gently through Em's hair, "but I take it you have a plan?"

"Go have your bath first and then I'll tell you all about it."

5th March

Day -- Giask

Aldrakar Renodin

A Monarch from the North

Having done away with the retinue that followed him everywhere Aldrakar breathed a sigh of relief. The air was different somehow though. He allowed his eyes to wander around but they only informed him of old familiarizes. The palace walls were still made of the same marble and stone. The servants still wore the same uniforms and the Imperial Guards still patrolled the halls. It was as he remembered it. Yet it smelled differently! A frown marred his featured but it wasn't enough to stop him now. Having journeyed all the way from the Empire's northern reaches down to the Capital of Giask.

Dressed in fine furs and satin and but absent any jewelry save for a solid gold signet ring Aldrakar calmly walked into the feasting hall where the other Nobles were already gathered and settled. A round faced winesteward made a small smile as he gracefully moved towards the Monarch. "Master Aldrakar. The words spoken softly yet with ample reverence. Might I offer you this Fissoan dry? From the hills of Mangai. Aldrakar stopped as he inspected the wine bottle that was presented to him. Mangai.. a bit of freshness would do well to start off with. As his thoughts formed his chin dipped in a minor nod. That'll do. The two men, long time acquaintances if not friends save for the barrier that status brought, shared a private smirk.

And that is how Aldrakar arrived, home away from home and ready to mingle with those present.

Matthew Coffey

"I can imagine." Matthews eyes gleamed as he followed Donald's brief description of Shinnen, a smile touching his features. "I must say, slogging through a swamp to find monsters to kill is the least of my fancies..." He trailed off, his gaze shifting toward the giant that was sir William. Or perhaps it was due to him being seated, that William seemed so much taller. Not wanting to seem rude, he once again, reluctantly, pried himself from his chair. "It is good to see you again, sir William. Please, we were just exchanging news from across the empire over a cup of wine." Stepping aside for the man, Matthew peered around the gardens again to see if others were about just yet. Satisfied that his attention was not needed immediately, he harried a nearby servant to fetch the next gift.

Presenting a fully grown man, red in the face and bearing a ridiculous outfit, Matthew bowed with a flourish to sir William. "A fool, for you, paid for one years service. I trust he will bring you and your soldiery some entertainment as you go about your honourable work in the realm." He straightened up, though his tone dropped the pomp of introductions. "He's really quite good. Juggling, jests, mock jousts..." Grinning broadly to his companion, perhaps it was becoming apparent that all of these presents were something of a mockery. That, or Matthews sense of humour was masked so professionally that he seemed genuine in these veiled gifts. What Matthew hadn't realised, or perhaps arranged as artfully, was that the fool was mimicking his movements almost perfectly the entire conversation. Without even allowing William the courteousy of response, his attention was drawn away.

A familiar voice penetrated the din of servants rushing about, easily recognised from among the junior nobles and common workers. King Aldrakar was here, and that meant things could begin to kick off. At least as far as the round lord was concerned. Giving the briefest nod or tap on the shoulder to the assembled lords and knights at the table, Matthew gestured over to their newest arrival. Once the king had selected a drink from a more senior steward, the viscount strutted up to the monarch like a stuffed pheasant, offering him a bow, toothy smile, and warm greeting. "My king, I am most pleased you have deigned to see us this day, hopefully the festivities will best your expectations. I trust the wine is to your liking? We've had several of our very own," he motioned back to the other three, "choosing the beverages on display tonight." Clapping twice above his head, apparently a signal he'd intended for the servile around the gardens, the panicked preparations began to cease and trickle out into the rest of the palace. What had been arranged thus far would do.

Now the feast could begin in earnest.

7th March

Night -- Giask

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"Don't fidget!" Em smacked Ciarghuala's hand away as it sought to tug at the maroon tunic collar, "There's little point wearing your dress uniform dear if you're not willing to bear a little discomfort."

"You know I don't like these formal occasions," the Lady of Poryatu clasped her hands behind her back with a resigned sigh.

"That's why I gave Synne the evening off dear. She's still smarting from your comments after the last State function and would probably have brained you by now," Em stood back, admiring her handiwork, "There, every bit the dashing line officer."

Ciarghuala gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Her maroon tunic was elegantly tailored from fine Lurian broadcloth fastened to the collar and at both cuffs with gold buttons bearing the Imperial Crest, tightly fitted to the waist then flaring in a pleated skirt. The contrast with her white kidskin britches and the polished oxblood leather of her baldric and riding boots was striking. Even the hilt of Shieldbane was burnished to a courtly sheen. She gripped the hem of her tunic and straightened it.

"Time to go darling, we have an Empire to conquer," Em slipped her arm through Ciarghuala's, white silk evening gloves and dazzling jewels matching the glamour of her loose-fitting fringed black dress, extravagant strings of pearls woven around her neck and through her hair, and open-toed sandals with impossibly high needle-like heels.

---

"Grand Panetier The Most Honourable The Margravine of Poryatu Lady Ciarghuala Dubhaine and Lady Emily D'Arcy," the stentorian tones echoed through the hall as Ciarghuala and Em descended the marble stairs arm-in-arm as various worthies looked their way.

"And that's why I normally avoid these affairs," the Margravine whispered whilst casting her eye over the gathering.

"You're a powerful noble and a war hero from a renowned family. You have to expect a little attention," Em squeezed her arm, "now let's mingle and you can introduce me to all these good people."

8th March

Night -- Giask

William Fitz Roberts

Sir William accepted the viscount's gift of a fool in stony silence. Clearly the man's humour had not matured since their childhood in Poryatu together. He would find a use for the fool at some point, but doubted Matthew would approve. He turned as he heard the herald announce the arrival of the Grand Panetier. He felt that he ought pay his respect to his liege, so quickly downed the rosewater that Matthew had given him the other morning, grimacing at the flavour and wondering why on earth would anyone ever find it appetising?, and slowly made his way over to her. As he passed an alcove, he noticed the alchemist that Matthew had hired preparing his heretical tricks. Glancing back to ensure no one at the high table noticed him, he ducked into the alcove, grabbing the man from behind, placing a large hand over his mouth and pressing a dagger into the alchemist's trembling back

He leaned in close to the man's ear, speaking in a low, menacing tone, "You may have the other nobles fooled, witch, but I know what you truly are. If I see any, ANY, funny business from you this evening, know that I will not hesitate to react accordingly. I have people watching your family. All told, you have very lovely children, don't you think?"

The alchemist gasped as William released him, "you wouldn't dare, I am here at Viscount Matthew's invitation", the man stuttered

William smiled down at the man, "that response might well have just killed your family", said William, speaking in a disturbingly cheery tone, "carry on as normal this evening. If you tell anyone about our little conversation or try to leave early, my people will act accordingly", he exited the alcove quickly, almost colliding with a servant carrying wine.

Having chastised the servant for their clumsiness, he continued his path through the banquet over to the Grand Panetier.

As he drew near, he promptly bowed low and spoke in the most polite tone he knew, "My lady, I am at your service".

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"Sir William," the Margravine dipped her head with practiced solemnity, just the hint of a familiar smile as she did so.

"Emily, have you met Sir William?"

"No, I don't believe I have Ciara," her companion gave the young nobleman a warm smile.

"Lady Emily D'Arcy, may I have the honour of introducing Sir William Fitz Roberts. Sir William is Lord of Bloodstone Manor and a most industrious agent of the Empire."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sir William," Em extended her right hand, silk glove, diamond rings, elegant wristwatch and all.

William Fitz Roberts

"Sir William," the Margravine dipped her head with practiced solemnity, just the hint of a familiar smile as she did so.

"Emily, have you met Sir William?"

"No, I don't believe I have Ciara," her companion gave the young nobleman a warm smile.

"Lady Emily D'Arcy, may I have the honour of introducing Sir William Fitz Roberts. Sir William is Lord of Bloodstone Manor and a most industrious agent of the Empire."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sir William," Em extended her right hand, silk glove, diamond rings, elegant wristwatch and all.

William, unsure what to do with the proffered hand, took it and bowed awkwardly. "It is a pleasure to meet you my lady. You must excuse me, I have grossly under-dressed due to coming straight from the training grounds," Sir William turned once more to the Grand Panetier,

"You flatter me much, my liege. I wish only to serve the realm. In fact, I am taking a break from the recruitment of militia so I that I might observe their effectiveness over time. I intend to visit my family before returning to active military service. My wife writes to me daily of how my daughters are growing and I fear at this rate they might not recognise me as their father," William paused, wistfully remembering the joy he had felt the day he had held them, so tiny in his massive arms. Remembering where he was, William shook in himself back into present.

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"Family is often uppermost in my thoughts too," Ciarghuala took a sip of wine from her goblet, remembering the half-starved and wretched condition in which her sister had arrived in Poryatu. The Dubhaines were cut from stiffer cloth than most and the Margravine dreaded to think what could possibly have brought Threiginion so close to death's door.

"To be honest I'm rather glad to be away from mine," Em's voice managed a conspiratorial edge despite it's cut-glass tone as she sought to head off an unseemly display of introspection, "they've never quite approved of my taste for adventure."

"Lady Emily is a tourist, isn't that right dear?" like much of Em's vocabulary the word was alien. Exotic.

"I'm actually supposed to be working on my next novel," she snaffled a savoury pastry from a passing waiter and took a delicate bite, "but I really needed a break from writing after the media blitz and Luria is so beautiful at this time. Much less stressful than that whole Boreal mess a few years ago. Tell me Sir William, have you seen much of the Empire?"

William Fitz Roberts

"Family is often uppermost in my thoughts too," Ciarghuala took a sip of wine from her goblet, remembering the half-starved and wretched condition in which her sister had arrived in Poryatu. The Dubhaines were cut from stiffer cloth than most and the Margravine dreaded to think what could possibly have brought Threiginion so close to death's door.

"To be honest I'm rather glad to be away from mine," Em's voice managed a conspiratorial edge despite it's cut-glass tone as she sought to head off an unseemly display of introspection, "they've never quite approved of my taste for adventure."

"Lady Emily is a tourist, isn't that right dear?" like much of Em's vocabulary the word was alien. Exotic.

"I'm actually supposed to be working on my next novel," she snaffled a savoury pastry from a passing waiter and took a delicate bite, "but I really needed a break from writing after the media blitz and Luria is so beautiful at this time. Much less stressful than that whole Boreal mess a few years ago. Tell me Sir William, have you seen much of the Empire?"

'I have been all over the Empire, my lady', William spoke as if he were given a military report, 'I grew up in the north, but in recent months I have been mostly in the south, firstly campaigning to retake our lost domains and then deploying militia in most provinces. Honestly, I much prefer the north, the south still feels alien to me.' William paused to take a drink, 'I feel at home in the north, my family is from there, I met my wife there, I hope my children will grow up there. Speaking of my wife, she has been asking for me to bring her to court, or even on campaign. I am fine with her being at court, but the thought of someone I love risking themselves on campaign terrifies me. Don't get me wrong, she can handle herself, but it would still worry me. How do you two cope with it?'

9th March

Day -- Giask

Sofia Nistalia

Sofia's entry to the feast was less grandiose than expected, one of her bodyguards staying behind on the chariot she recently bought alongside her small retinue, advancing forth only with a single bodyguard alongside her, his weapons left on the chariot and only with his extremely fancy armor, the emblem of house Nistalia bright on his tabard. Her entry's announcement being done by a young boy.

Sofia made her way in the large hall, her clothing extravagant and overbearing, an overdecorated dress where she spent little expenses to show off her apparent riches, a bright purple dress with white decorations swent upon it to accentuate the folds of the dress, meant to exalt her extravagant dress even further.

She took seat on the feast table, taking a moment to make sure her dress wasn't damaged in the process, and her bodyguard helping her seat. It was a simple gesture of cordiality from the soldier to his dame, then taking his position behind her chair, remaining silent.

Zajar Essenhorn

'Captain Leopold, have my personal guard select the most capable warriors of Askileon, make ready for travel and distribute this Imperial Decree to every Lurian Commander. Units of two dozen. Have them deliver it personally to each and every recipient.'

Zajar stamped his sigil ring into the still hot wax, sealing the last of a large stack of rolled parchments. Around him in the royal palace busied a small army of scribes, quartermasters and servants.

' Enough time has passed, either some of them have suddenly gone illiterate, or are plain insubordenent. If either is the case, inform me personally.'

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"Oh, I try not to be too much of a bother Sir William," Emily's voice dropped to a mock whisper, "and I understand that our Margravine is more than capable of dealing with any trouble should it arise."

"Haven't I told you not to believe every rumour you hear Lady Emily?" Ciarghuala's mood visibly brightened and the two ladies shared a mischievous smile, like schoolgirls caught in some innocent misdemeanour.

"Actually this is my first trip south of the Sea Sir William so it's all new to me. Giask is such a contrast to Askileon and Poryatown - both it's magnificent wealth and the desperate poverty I've seen in its stews."

"I have warned Lady Emily not to wander too far from the citadel, haven't I dear?"

"Repeatedly!" Emily rolled her eyes theatrically before continuing enthusiastically, "I can hardly take in the ambiance of Giask if I spend my days locked away behind stone walls. Where would literature be if Dickens or Chaucer or Shakespeare had followed that advice. Not that my novels are of such a calibre of course - I certainly don't mean to blow my own trumpet - but I'm sure you get my drift."

Ciarghuala wasn't at all sure that she did. Emily had read her extracts from a couple of her novels, pithy affairs with a dry wit which didn't translate at all well into colloquial Lurian, and full of something she referred to as the juxtaposition of symbolic foreshadowing and psychological realism, but the circumstances of the Margravine's life in Dwilight meant that she'd rarely had time to engage with literature or the arts. And even if she had, such concepts were alien to what few academicians and rhetoricians there were practicing in the Empire.

It also didn't help that Emily's work largely viewed the human condition through the lens of murder most horrid, a concept which would be much easier to grasp if the protagonists and settings weren't so determinedly bucolic, private evils of human frailty passing barely noticed in a world where actual monsters stalked the night and it was a lucky village which passed a year untouched by their assaults. Love however has a power to override all else and the Lady of Poryatu found such excitement in her lover's enthusiasm that the world seemed shaped anew by it.

"To capture the essence of Giask one must experience it?" she offered, remembering wryly the smell of the quayside fleshpots where her retainers were fond of carousing.

"Precisely. Art is life and life is art! This is the very soul of les enfants de bohême," Em sighed a deep sigh and then remembered where she was. "Oh, but I do apologise Sir William, I get so swept up in my passion for writing that at times I quite forget my manners. You were telling us about your dear wife and the depth of your feelings for her. She is such a lucky woman to have so committed a protector," and she unconsciously squeezed Ciarghuala's arm as she said this.

"We'll be travelling back home to Poryatu with the Summer," Ciarghuala took another sip of her wine, "across the Euschean and through the straits to the open ocean. Do you have duties to keep you in Giask Sir William?"

Donald Augustus Allan

The gardens were really starting to fill up now, no longer was it just Donald, Matthew and Staedtler but a myriad of people had arrived and taken to making merriment. Even King Aldrakar had arrived, simply appearing in the hall with little ceremony, as was his way. Sir William had lumbered in and been less than impressed with Matthew’s gift, Dame Sofia had arrived also and thankfully not tried to talk to Donald.

Noticing his wine was gone, Donald quickly acquired more, only to see that too disappear in under a minute; the trick of course is to know when to stop he thought idly, while he dexterously acquired another goblet of wine from a passing servant. Scanning the gathering crowd he noticed the good lady Ciarghuala, Sir William and another women unknown to Donald, nearby. He straightened himself out and made his way towards the trio.

Trying his very hardest not to interrupt their conversation he announced himself “Good evening Sir William” nodding politely at his Knightly counterpart, before turning to the Magravine and giving a short bow; “Lady Ciarghuala, I do believe this is the first time we have conversed without the aid of letters, I am Donald Augustus of Sulorte. It is most wonderful to finally meet you in the flesh”

And then he turned to the third women and bearing a friendly face spoke to her: “And you must forgive my ignorance, my Lady, but I do not know your name. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"Please, allow me Sir Donald. This is Lady Emily D'Arcy," Ciarghuala made the introductions, "and this is Vice-Marshal Sir Donald Allan. Do not let the Vice-Marshal's youth fool you, his name has featured prominently in despatches, leading patrols on our borders and beyond."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sir Donald," Emily extended her hand to shake his, "have you travelled far for this evening's festivities?"

William Fitz Roberts

William nodded politely as Donald acknowledged him and waited until Emily and Donald were in conversation before answering Ciarghuala.

"I do not quite know where my duties take me, my lady. I am currently training a force for my own purposes but I do not yet know where they might be most useful. If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition I wonder whether I might join you on your return North? The fields and hills that surround the towns of Poryatu are far better suited for training than the flat drill squares contained within Giask. However, first I have a couple of works of my own that I intend to have published shortly. I had hoped to discuss them here with these fine lords and ladies."

Staedtler la Stylo

Staedtler was lounging into the depths of his chair, slowly eating from a bowl of ripe, summer fruits and waxed berries, pinch by pinch. His gift from the hosting Viscount was beginning to gather dust and took up considerable table space, already having been mistaken for a decoration by one or two passers by, so he motioned for two servants to come and take it somewhere safe to be later retrieved. The two young lads hobbled over with their draping, golden hair coiling about their boyish faces, tickling the collar of their uniforms. Together, under the meticulous instruction of Staedtler, they deftly raised the rattling mechanism between them and shuffled up the steps and away to the palace like a pair of pallbearers. Staedtler watched them depart. Every scuff of the boot or miscommunicated turn viced his nerves and made him wince all over. When they took to the stairs and the leading lad failed his initial traversal onto the first step, Staedtler ground his molars together and clenched his fists. Only when they were out of earshot and line of sight did Staedtler relax and return to his treats, just a slight, however. He would undoubtedly still be able to hear the thing crumple against the flagstones were one of the boys to become distracted for just a moment, or to have fallen upon the misfortune of accidentally insulting one of the more petulant guests in some trivial manner.

Staedtler blindly reached for his fourth, or fifth, wine glass on the table as he craned around to see if he could catch a glimpse of the gift entering the palace from over the precipice of the stairs. His hand touched against the cold glass with a wet, ichorous drool. He recoiled from with a twitch and looked to it, knocking the thing over with a dull clamour as silver hit quilted woodwork. Luckily, it was already emptied. His palm was lathered with a blackish, seed-ridden pulp of deep red. He had crushed a handful of currants in the stress of things.

Staedtler eyed the table for a loose cloth or napkin to wipe the filth off with. There was an iron-wire framed napkin container center-piecing a pair of honeyed and glazed hams and their blooming dresses of floral vegetation. However, leaning to, he noticed across from him, with the napkins and their porkish entourage sitting between them, was a lone lady in purple dress, idly knifing at something or other on her plate. Dame Sofia looked dreadfully dulled despite the colours of the world around her. Wringing the fruit flesh away, Staedtler saw wisdom in a little bit of playful antics - the breed of wisdom well-afforded by people, four glasses deep into the wine; 'their steel sufficiently whetted,' as he would say to Viscount Donald. Dame Sofia was renowned for her enthusiasm in the more boisterous things, so this should be fun.

Easy friends can be made of the fanatics; you merely have to appeal to their sensibilities.

Staedtler took a pair of ink-black grapes from his bowl, a quaff from a fresh wine glass stolen from an empty seat, two moments to think over his aim, and then looked about to ensure he was unwitnessed. Lady Ciarghuala was entertaining a few of the Lords and Ladies with her conversation to the side, and Lord Matthew was nowhere to be seen. Satisfied, Staedtler nodded to himself and yakked the pair of grapes at Sofia. One struck the plate before her, bouncing away into the dark of the shrubbery, the second missed entirely, shooting far too high and wide to even be noticed.

Staedtler shot back into a dignified pose: cross-legged, straight-backed, pursed lips. He swirled his wine glass and chuckled to himself. Oh, you absolute child.

Evening -- Giask

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"I read your Treatise with considerable interest," Ciarghuala drained the last of her wine and placed the empty goblet on a passing waiter's tray, "a very clear and insightful work. I have little doubt that one day the Grand Pantry will flourish under your stewardship. If there is anything I can do to assist you with its sequel you need only ask my friend."