After Camelia and Conrad left the Inn to begin their promenade, after Mikal and Celi slipped out the back door, Daxia hummed The Snowqueen to herself, perhaps a tad slower than most sang it. It was a good long song, to give the Imperial lass and the Squire of Rames time to be seen, time to gather a following, time for whispers and rumors to fly, time for people to surge towards the excitement and splendor of a visiting Imperial walking on the arm of Conrad Shannon.
Song finished, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, stood tall and proper as Kassia had taught, and smiled at Kadri. "Now... we go to seek our investment." She led the way out the front door of the Inn, cloak closed to hide both sword and dagger but with the hood thrown back to reveal the crimson hair of a Dawnview daughter. The dark green of her undertunic and the light green of her overtunic could be glimpsed below the hem of the heavy Kierkegaard cloak. While she appeared to be paying close attention to the information Kadri was providing -- even asking clarifying questions -- Daxia was watching everyone and everything around them: passersby, people just standing around, people who might look out of place, people who seemed to pay just a little too much attention to them. She was listening for the murmurs and whispers, as well... any snatches of conversation to remember and ponder later, anything that might hint at an threat.
Celi immediately followed, staying close but not so close as to impede any action Mikal chose, apparently focused completely on him. In reality she let her senses reach out to the community through which they passed, alert for sounds and scents that reflected a concern.
Anything out of the ordinary she would clear her throat , then shift her eyes to the offending source to direct Mikal's attention, while touching her ear or nose to tell him what she sensed.
His eyes were better trained for the city than hers, so she trusted him to point out visual threats.
Aware on a noise behind them, he stops and turns, watching for a moment as the procession came onto the street and then moves away from them towards the centre of town. One last long look to see if any atention is left on the two of them.
Taking his cue, hoping attention is focused on them, he turns and continues his path but now with their goal in mind.
The walk from the Hart and Horse to the Punched Penny would not be a long one. It was basically a mirror of how the group arrived the night before. The Punched Penny was near the city gates they had entered through. But it would serve as a good place to begin the 'tour'. Stop in at the Punched Penny and gather the girl and then make the walk by whatever route her guide chose, back through Cragside to the center of the town. The Hospice was near to the Church of Rames and the Town Hall building. If they walked directly back, passing the Hart and Horse again, they might also pass the market barn along their route and that might surely have people gathered. If not for that reason, there was also a well that people might be gathered to share the news of the day. The whole point was to draw as much attention to themselves and away from the others, and get the girl safely escorted from the punched Penny to the Hospice.
The Heartwood Afternoon, the Town of Cragside Restday The Last Day of the Month of Raven, 2623
Everybody
" ... cor ..."
It was not just the small gathered group whose attention was caught upon the arrival of a lass trimmed in the black and gold checkerboard of the House Deynnekko.
" ... oh ... now that's a dangerous game."
Indeed it was; to wear colors that were not yours, if called upon, was not a matter to be taken lightly. They say pagans are fit for firewood; to wear the Imperial colors with out the right often ended with them one's last garb as one hung from the hangman's noose.
And the only ones who had the right to wear the Imperial checkerboards ... were those who were of the proper blood ...
... or their trusted servants.
It was the kind of lie that one Madoka kha'Ayanna kha'Kame kha'Chikato khal'Homura Akemi would offer a sly and mysterious smile. The kind of lie that was the stock and trade of the mainland's most infamous wildwuff, her husband, Thomas Montgomery Koromov.
" ... pretty ..."
" ... hoi, one coul'be earn'in a bucketfull of crown inna tunic like OW!"
There was a round of rough laughter, that and the sound of a large body meeting the legs of more than a few benches in a less that fortunate manner. But the laughter was one of comraderie, and the knockdown, almost expected.
"Oh have pity, Barris ... everyone knows Ciaran can't haul hisself outta the gutter with a ladder, a winch, three sets of block and tackle while tied to a fullhand of skybound griffins ...
"Remind me again why we keep him around?
"I be humble and lovable ... OW ... ah can hit ah penny at ah hundred yards inna t'e moonlight?""
"Right. Carry on ..."
Mercenaries ... one may be able to take them off of the battlefield, but getting the battlefield out of them was much more difficult. As difficult as getting the Trundle Alley out of a brat that knew little else growing up.
As she and her fine House Shannon escort left the Hart and Horse Camelia was a splash of finery against the rough and tumbled, a town shadowed beneath Her gaze, the shadows She cast in all the tones of gray.
On their own tasks, Camelia's companions in two and twos, took their own leave.
The Heartwood Afternoon, the Town of Cragside Restday The Last Day of the Month of Raven, 2623
Daxia, Kadri, Mikal, Celi, Darian, Cesare, Camelia and Conrad
It was a parade!
A small parade.
Too small to be a proper parade, actually, plus they were missing fancy horses in their mantlings, a few fools to dance about and tease the children - though arguably, that point might be a bit debatable, all things considered and depending upon one's alliances and point of view - no Important Personages In Representation, not even a Knight to play the role of Rames, simply a Squire and while most townsfolks did do a double take upon the sight of the Imperial checkerboard upon dashing and fancy trim, the heritage it labels is beyond their everyday familiarity.
It was a promenade.
Perhaps that was a much better description. Though like a parade it does gather a train of townschildren; and a few of the more desperately garbed of the towns; those to whom the playful scattering of a few coins might mean a bit of bread for dinner and not a trip to the confectionaries.
That and a trio haunted in their shadow, following. Though not one to be worried for, the three being Darian, Cesare and Longtooth.
Up the mainstreet to the town's well Conrad and Camelia promenade, Ladyship and Squire. By now only a handful of women take their leave upon the rune carven stone ... the age worn sigils of water, time and horse. They, of course, can't help but notice the two passing, eyeing them speculatively.
"Well at least she's pretty ..."
"Dear me ... how outrageous! You'd think he might have at least chosen a local girl! Are not his own people good enough for the young Shannon?"
" ... hush, Gissy, I bet its all arranged and political, have a heart ... there's only one place that you can see colors like and you know what they say about Trundle born; look at her bearing, she's pretty and knows it, haughty arrogant, foreign .. they don't think like us they don't ..."
" ... oh the poor, poor, poor boy."
"Almost as bad as that horrid swordbiiiii - person - down at the Hart and Horse! Why I had to take a switch to Cecily, Fa caught her beating on her older brothers with a sick, playing Horde and Jvrillian they were.
" ... Spring can't come too soon, I tell you."
Happily, the walk from the town well to the smaller one at the Elder's Court was a lot quieter. Here, as the sun slowly fell between noon and the promise of late afternoon, the little square was almost empty. A pair of guardsmen nodded politely to the two as they walked between Hospice and the town hall, the directness of their pace hinting at some business not yet completed.
Following their path backwards the two enter the Attenran chapel building.
To find of all things, a reunion of sorts; finding Lady Alice in conversation with two of their acquaintances, their own Jvrillian and his backwoods companion.
Heartbeats pass, literally, and the door opened again, letting Daxia and Kadri into the house of healing.
"Do you mind if I take a look at their faces? I have had friends who were accosted by ruffians in town and I'd like to see if these match their description." Mikal asked of the Attaran Priestess.
"I don't see why not ... seeing that it'd be nice to be able to let their kin know if they be having ... having ..."
Lady Alice blinked as her hospice suddenly became crowded.
"Good afternoon?"
Again the door opened. Finally, the last of the small collective arriving; that of Darian and Cesare.
"You know, lads and lasses, never in all of my years has this place goten so many visits by folks who were whole and well ..."
Daxia noted Mikal and Celi speaking with one of the Ladies of Attera, a somewhat puzzled look on her face when she overheard their question. But a more concerned look crossed her features when she noted that the Squire and Camelia were not accompanied by Elissa. Before she had a chance to speak, however, Cesare and Darian entered the Hospice, followed by Longtooth.
She looked at the Lady when she spoke, then around at her companions... finally stopping to regard the Squire intently. Several heartbeats passed as she studied him with narrowed eyes.
She knelt by Longtooth, her hand on his head. The huntress was not entirely sure how they had come to be here. Oh, she knew they had wandered the streets and somewhat shadowed the pair, but what she did not understand just yet was why. It seemed unwise for them all to be here together.
"Guard," she whispered to the ruff.
Their amber eyes met and he gave a chuff. He would listen and scent and alert her if need be.
She rocked back and forth in the wagon of the caravan. It was another cool day. At least she was reasonably dry, having been given a place with some cover due to her station. She watched the country side pass, knowing that she was getting closer and closer to Brementown, her next stop on a five year tour of some of the most remote parts of the land.
The thought made her smile. It had been hard and at times dangerous, but the rewards had been remarkable. She truly was a Lady of Attera now. She had served the least of the lands and while many would never understand it, she had received far more than she had given.
Her musings ended as the caravan came to an end. She looked up as the caravan leader offered her his hand in helping her down.
"Thank you Reginald." she said bowing her head. He gave her directions to the hospice and she thanked him again, heading out in the indicated direction.
She looked up at the walls of the citadel and for the millionth time, wondered how Daxia fared. She hadn't been able to write to her baby sister in 5 years.
*Goodness, she's hardly a baby anymore. Probably a right beautiful woman now.* the thought making her smile again.
She pulled her meager coat closer around her and kept her hood covering her blond hair, trying to keep warm. She looked up in surprise at all the people ahead of her, thinking at first it was some kind of parade. Of course she had been recognized as a Lady of Attera and she smiled back at the people who greeted her. Her gaze at been focused on the people in front of her, well in this case, it was the snarkhound that garnered her attention.
*A snarkhound, in the town. How strange.* she thought when she felt a tug on her skirts.
Then, of course, there was a tug at her skirts. Not an unexpected or unfamiliar thing for a wandering healer. A little girl with tangled hair - more than a little dust covered, looked up. She wore a short, hand-me-down tunic, and her knees were banged and scrapped.
"Miss Lady and all ... Bobby pushed me down in the dirt, and it hurts all powerful ... "
"Let me look at that little one." she checked the minor injury and with a touch of her hand and a blessing for her Lady, the wound disappeared.
"There you go child, good as new."
She had fallen behind the troupe before her and she made her way to the hospice.
Then she heard it as the door of the two story house closed. A voice with a dawnview accent and it made her think all the more of her beloved sister. She crossed the street, stepping around a hole.
She opened the door of the hospice and removed her hood, letting her eyes adjust to the light. She had light blond hair and bright blue eyes. She had a slender build, clearly no warrior, which was also clear being a Lady of Attera.
[ooc: if everyone could post a small description in their next post, I'd really appreciate it]
Kadri too looks askance that Elissa is not, apparently, present, although she allows Daxia's question on that matter to stand. She then looks over at the new entrant. She narrows her eyes, studying her, but saying, for the moment, nothing.
Kadri is just a couple of inches shy of five feet and looks to top 100 pounds by only a few. She has long black hair, which is very fine framing a rounded face which is pretty, but in many ways childlike - mared mainly by a scar on her right cheek. The face is also somewhat exotic, speaking of someone whose heritage is not local. The hair is braided and decorated with a feather here or a bit of cord there. It would be very easy to think she was perhaps twelve or thirteen if you did not look closely - but older if you did. She is dressed functionally, in mostly earth tones of grey and black - although the clothes do look well cared for.
Last edited by Art in the Blood; Sun 11/12/1115:38 UTC.
A tallish well-built young man in leathers and cottons of good quality was talking with one woman while another was at his side, dressed as a lady of noble bearing. He had a broadsword and dagger belted at his sides and had the stance and bearing of both noble and warrior.
"We spoke with the innkeeper. The girl, according to him, never arrived. We have come here hoping to find her still here with her father, although my hope is faint." he said quietly.
Huntress and hound looked to the door as one as yet another enters, the amber eyes of each gauging the newcomer and noting the white robes of a healer. She rises from her kneeling position and cocks her head as if listening.
She is of average size, yet what sets her off beyond those amber eyes is her sun-burnished skin. You see the weapons then, once you get past the eyes and skin; a tall, sturdy bow of a particular design and a long dagger obviously meant for fighting. Where the woman was average, the ruff was large and stood half as tall as the woman. His coat seemed to hold ever color of fur possible, and there was a keenness to his gaze that spoke of a greater than average intelligence.
Right as he asks about seeing the dead, and gaining a positive answer from the Priestess, the others begin to arrive. He too lifts an eyebrow when the Squire and Camelia enter without the girl. He waits for the priestess to show him the way, not wanting to start asking too many questions out in the open.
Mikal is a young man, looking to be in his mid twenties, with dark brown hair, edging towards black, worn long. His eyes are emerald green and piercing. He is tall, likely six feet, with a wide shouldered and muscular build, though he moves with a dancers grace. He wears ring mail over hardened boiled leathers and carries a sword and a long wide-hilted dagger.
She frowned, eyebrows drawing together, and shook her head. "Not good, Squire," she said, throwing the heavy Kierkegaard cloak, woven in threads of browns and grays, over her shoulders to reveal the light green overtunic and dark green undertunic. The double belt around her waist was white leather; from one side hung a dagger and pouch, from the other a sword. From the back, the red, shoulder-length, slightly wavy hair looked inexpertly cut... or, more likely, simply trimmed with the same dagger that hung at her side.
The redheaded Dayalan turned to look at the newcomer, and blinked once. Then deep blue eyes opened wide in surprise as she whispered, "Bekkah?" For two, then three heartbeats she stared, then a broad grin lit her face with joy. "Bekkah!" She crossed the space separating them in but two strides, and grasped the older woman in a tight embrace. "Hoi, Bekkah!"
Daxia released her sister enough to look her in the eyes, hands resting comfortably on Bekkah's shoulders. Tears rolled down her face, but her smile was brighter than any she had shown in 14 years. She could only look at her sister; words completely failed her.
The Heartwood Afternoon, the Town of Cragside Restday The Last Day of the Month of Raven, 2623
Everybody
"Hoi?
"Hoi?
"HOI!"
Lady Alice Lillisdotter simply threw her arms into the air as she looked to the sky.
"This is a HOSPICE! It is a place for the hurt and sick! Ladies mercy How dare you be happy here!
"OUT OUT OUT OUT!
"Are you hurt?
"No? OUT!
"Are you ill? No? OUT!
"Do you think this is a party? Well first, forgot to tell the most important person here ... who ... oh don't give me that look ... that's right .... it's ME! And that requires an invitation. Which you neglected to send. In writing. On fine vellum. Sealed with wax and a fancy signet ring. Perfumed. Oh and a dozen white roses wouldn't have hurt either.
"Especially when you finally got around to saying sad party would be held in MY HOSPICE."
An expert cat herder, the Atterran Priestess began ooshing people towards the door.
"OUT OUT OUT!"
Dark eyes leveled at the newest entry, the one suddenly glomped.
"YOU!"
She pointed to Bekkah Yurissdotter.
"I have no I dea who you are! Right now I don't care! But guess what?
"Whoever you are.
"You see this circus?
"THEY ARE YOUR PROBLEM NOW!"
With a humf the tall Priestess crossed her arms. She then blinked. Once. Then twice.
"What do you mean she's not?"
To whom she was speaking to, certainly was none of the people present.
"Oh bother. Well I can solve that."
Eyes narrowed as she looked about the room. Snaring a flower from the table vase she stormed forward, eyeing the newcomer sharply. She reached out, around the Dayallan, brooking no dissension and took one of Bekkah's hands and wrapped her fingers around the stem.
He slips into the hospice, moving aside as he enters the area where the others are and leans against the wall by the door.
He wears a hooded cloak, though the hood is down and so not much can be seen of either his attire or his belongings apart from the pack he carries. His dark hair frames his face, emphasising the angular and slightly gaunt look. No excess fat here, no signs of comfortable living. Against the dark swarthy look, his eyes stand out the most. Restless and watchful, calculating even and where his gaze rests, very direct. Trouble perhaps? Someone not to be messed with.. likely.
He turns ahead of the newcomer entering, obviously hearing her approach, his gaze assessing briefly before moving back to the others in the room.
He seems amused by Daxia greeting the newcomer and about being ushered out.. and not waiting to be asked again slips outside to wait until others are expelled.
She too looked stunned, her eyes searching the face of the redhead for the young sister she had left behind.
"Dazi?"
"Dazi!" she said hugging the redhead fiercely like she was afraid to let go of her, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.
Before she could say anything more, a pristess of Attera thrust a carnation in her hands. She blinked as the pristess' words sunk in. She smiled then turned back to her sister and crushed her again in a hug.
"Dazi, what are you doing here? Are you here with all these people? And what does the Lady mean that you're my problem now?"
She wiped the tears from her eyes as she held Daxia at arms' length.
"Goodness, you're not so little anymore."
The woman Daxia turned to and hugged was close to 30 in age, certainly older than the redhead, though she might have been more slight. She certainly didn't have the strength that Daxia had. She also stood a couple inches shorter than her younger sister.
Daxia moved out of Lady Alice's way, grinning broadly both because of the reunion with her sister and Lady Alice's... performance. Looking at the carnation in Bekkah's hand, then at her face, she just shrugged. "Duksheviya. I tell you when Sinya leave Vale, yes?" She hooked her arm through Bekkah's and, leading her out the door, said, "I try explain... very long story. Messy." She sighed, her smile dimming slightly. "Introduce all outside. Lady Alice seem... not to like crowds, yes?" she remarked with a giggle. "You Priestess now! So proud of you!"
As even more arrive, and there is a family reunion of some sort, Mikal shrugs and since no one is paying him any attention he moves back to where he saw the men leave the bodies of the dead to get a quick look at them. Memorizing their faces, build, dress, and manner of death, he comes back out in time to be shooed out with the others. He follows them back outside and asks the group, "Where to? Don't want to talk in the street I'd guess?"
At the other woman's admonition she and the ruff too join those exiting. Once again they found themselves outside. Outside was better, the air more welcoming even if it was city air. They looked about and stepped away a bit to survey the street.
An arm -- not her sword arm, it would be noted by those who note such things -- around Bekkah's waist, she said to Mikal with a nod to the Hospice door, "Yes, no talk in street. Wait for others, introduce, go to Inn... ok?"
"Good thing I was injured," Celi said to Mikal, a hint of the sardonic in her voice after the healer's tirade left no one unscorched. She followed Mikal on his recon of the dead bodies, peering over his shoulder or standing so as to block others' sightline to him.
She was neither upset nor disgusted; death was an element of life, and if some aspects of it proved useful, so much the better. She decided against asking for a timely lesson; she did not want to antagonize their hostess. She simply listened, looked, and learned.
The young Imperial who wore the clothes of another house had slipped the arm of Conrad as the group had entered the Aterran Hospice. Her plan had not materialized with the hoped for success but she hadn’t given up. To that end she drew back as the crowd of them were finding themselves reunited within the halls of the house of Peace and Solace. Too many people, too much noise. Camelia, in all the finery she wore, none of which were actually hers, allowed herself to shift into the shadows of the nearest corner to watch. They had entered the Hospice among a line of people and their presence drew the rebuke of the principle Priestess, the one named Alice, and swiftly she ushered them outwards.
Still Camelia hung back to allow all of them to exit. They were pre-occupied with their thoughts, findings, and the stories of their recent wanderings. Camelia had only one intent and purpose. The same one she had set out upon when she left the Hart and Horse on the Arm of Conrad. Their promenade had as much the effect as she had hoped for, but she wouldn’t know if the secondary efforts to help her companions had been equally as successful or not. The last purposes of her making such a scene and spectacle in public would likely not bear fruit as quickly but time would tell soon enough.
Camelia needed to speak with Darian, the one who traveled with the ruff called Longtooth. The animal was larger than any ruff she had ever seen before. Even the hunting ruffs from Trundle. It seemed less a hound and more a separate companion and it had done well enough to bring Darian and Cesare to the Punched Penny. Despite the trail fading there, it had still told Camelia much in just seeing them as they arrived nearly the same time. Longtooth would be the means to finding the girl now. Camelia was always thinking… Too much intrigue and gamesmanship in her mind for all the years she served Kristine, helping her friend stay up with or ahead of her peers and those of others houses who also played silly games that could mean life or death to the unwary or unprepared. Always thinking. She just had to apply her skills differently now.
Lady Alice sent them outside, even putting a new woman, also a Healer, in their midst and giving her some semblance of belonging with just her words. That and Dazia appeared to be related.
The blond hair and blue eyes did not go unnoticed either.
As the last one remaining inside, Camelia made the overt effort to say a parting word to Lady Alice, despite her rightful but ill-tempered outburst. She spoke with sincerity. She had seen the harm done by being inattentive to good manners and she had no desire to repeat that again.
“I apologize for our rude and unexpected arrival. We were wrong to come here with expectations, and to do so like so many head of cattle simply trampling about with our noise and our brazen behavior. Forgive us. The welfare of the child is important to us, and we sought only to find a place of safety for her in this seemingly perilous town. This was the last place we saw her, and she never returned to her room across town. Atop that, her room was vandalized and I worry now. But none of that excuses our actions. Again, I am sorry.”
Camelia offered a nod that became a partial bow, before making her way out of the Hospice behind the last of her companions to return to the open air of the courtyard. She would make her way to Darian.
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She frowned, eyebrows drawing together, and shook her head. "Not good, Squire," she said, throwing the heavy Kierkegaard cloak, woven in threads of browns and grays, over her shoulders to reveal the light green overtunic and dark green undertunic. The double belt around her waist was white leather; from one side hung a dagger and pouch, from the other a sword. From the back, the red, shoulder-length, slightly wavy hair looked inexpertly cut... or, more likely, simply trimmed with the same dagger that hung at her side.![[Linked Image]](/lib/user/gypsy/cesare.jpg)
