God Is On His Knees (IC/Still Accepting)

[Ko T'suno]

"I'm afraid we ran into quite the predicament involving Garlen Mattowick," Robert began in a calming tone, "You needn't worry, Duke Tristan. All is well."

Tristan looked up to Robert as he spoke his face . Robert's calming tone, helped simmer Tristan a bit.
"The Houndsman?? I hope it is as you say." He returned, knowing Maehel would fill him in later.


Maehel gave a short nod as Robert and Tristan spoke. She said little else untell hers and Tristan's eyes darting over at Robert as he readjust himself. "Shoulder.'' She and Tristan said in unison before Maehel reached over and plucked the leaf from his shoulder.

"Sorry to be a bother, Duke Tristan, but did Princess Lilith return here?" Robert asked but right as Tristan began to
speak, the galloping of hooves took his attention.
"Arren..well there is one of two. " Tristan said as Arren guided his horse to it's stable.

"Forgive my tardiness, Duke Tristan. I was delayed."

"I pray the delay was worth while, Maximus will surely find out about this and I hope your reason pleases him..now where was I............oh yes Robert. Yes, she is currently dancing in the main hall, last I checked." Tristan replied as he turned to begin to walk away. Only to stop mid stride. "Where is Lord Sypher? For the last time." He asked turning his neck to look at the three.
"T'nuh." Maehel replied. Her voice hide her nervousness well.
"Ah...very well. I would suggest we return to the hall for a drink. Before we retire for the night. I wouldn't want you boys poorly rested during training in the morning."
Tristan replied as he resumed walking off towards the Palace.

Maehel gave a soft sigh before walking off with Tristan. The two soon locked in conversation in their native tongue. Her eyes periodically darting back at the two in the stables. Or was it just one of the two .

 

[VengefulPeanut]

-Robert Bowman, Knight of the Kings Guard-



Robert allowed Maehel to explain to Tristan where their last unaccounted ally was. It was an explanation Tristan seemed to be comfortable with as his previously worried disposition seemed to fade away at the muttering of but one foreign word. With Tristan informing the young knight that Lilith was safely returned to the party all of Robert's concerned were eased and with how late the hour was becoming the atmosphere seemed to be winding down somewhat. Who knows? Himself and Arren, along with the other knights, might actually have gotten a chance to rest. In the distance, the muffled sounds of music and jubilations could be heard from the main hall and from beyond the walls the constant sound of crickets and other animals reigned prevalent.

"I would suggest we return to the hall for a drink, before we retire for the night," Tristan spoke, breaking the momentary quiet, "I wouldn't want you boys poorly rested during training in the morning."

"'Til next we see you, Duke Tristan. Rest well," Robert bade politely, bowing once more as he well-wished the duke a good night. His eyes flicked to Maehel for a moment with panic, realising his rudeness. "And to you too, Sir Maehel." As the two moved away, he turned his attention to Arren with both of his palms resting on the pommel of the his sheathed blade. He gave his comrade a half serious look, his complexion still quite relaxed and pleasant from the relief of the good outcome of the recent events. "What business did the Houndmaster have with you, then?" Robert asked, a light wisp of concern in his voice.

 

[malina]

Marcella Petri

In the end it turned out Marcella had nothing to fear. The king had come out shortly after her accident and had delivered a very charming speech to his guests. A charming farewell would have been more apt to describe it perhaps, as his guests soon began trickling out of the palace one by one. Marcella was more than happy to join the tipsy nobles especially if it meant she could stall her mission for at least one more night.

As tethered to Terenzio as she was, it was a refreshing break to be separated from the priest and Marcella wasn't eager to ending it all too soon. Being away from him made her more bolder than any alcohol could make her and Marcella decided to call it a day. Handing off her untouched goblet to a weary looking attendant, Marcella left the palace and began walking to her tavern room.

As she walked down the cobblestone path Marcella cautiously looked around to make sure no one was around her before she reached up and removed her wig with a sigh. It was a relief to do away with the bristling hooks on the underside of the wig and it felt good to have her scalp breath air again. "Ahh. Better." She mumbled to herself as she reached the tavern she was staying at. The Dancing Bear wasn't a place one would expect to find a member of the Vatican such as herself but that just added to her cover.

She opened the creaky wooden door and padded softly to her rented room. It was a dirty, raucous place with unsavory patrons of all ages. Still after three weeks or so of living there it seemed like home to Marcella and she found herself becoming more relaxed around the atmosphere.

Not that she participated in it though - she'd had her fair warning of what would happen to sinners. Though a woman with a crew cut in a dress would draw glances anywhere she went, the drunkards in the tavern were too intoxicated to notice much beyond a slurred exclamation of surprise.

Once she was safe in the privacy of her room, Marcella began preparing for bed. The dress she had borrowed from the tavern owner she would fold neatly and place on the chest for her to collect. The blonde wig she tossed aside into a corner. She reached for her usual tunic before catching a glimpse of herself in the dirty mirror.

The dust couldn't cover all of her scars and Marcella found herself observing her naked reflection with a critical eye. It was a disgusting sight. Her melted skin had warped all around her back and shoulder, forever marking her sin. It didn't help how the pigment itself had changed there, making her wounds extremely lighter than the rest of her skin. It was as if she had allowed a blind artist to make splotches all over her.

Marcella traced the burn scars with her fingers, frowning as they traveled over every bump. "Who would ever want this?" Though Marcella hadn't seen her parents since Terenzio had taken her, she was sure that they would have disproved heavily of this sign of self harm.She rubbed her arms, feeling a little prickle as her hands moved up and down. Marcella recoiled instantly, reaching for her belongings. Though her hair was barely starting to grow back Marcella was adamant about removing every single trace of her lycantrophy in the small ways she could.

Night and day were beginning to mix together when Marcella had finished scouring her body raw. Slipping into her tunic at last, she tightly clutched her rosary beads and recited her nightly prayer. Terenzio had often berated her for skipping it at night, citing her various offences as the reasons why she had been bitten in the first place. Now it was second nature and Marcella found she rarely needed her weathered Bible to recite her prayers.

"Invocante me exaudi me Deus iustitiae meae in tribulatione dilatasti mihi miserere mei et exaudi orationem meam. Filii viri usquequo incliti mei ignominiose diligitis vanitatem quaerentes mendacium semper. Et cognoscite quoniam mirabilem reddidit Dominus sanctum suum Dominus exaudiet cum clamavero ad eum. Irascimini et nolite peccare loquimini in cordibus vestris super cubilia vestra et tacete semper. Sacrificate sacrificium iustitiae et fidite in Domino multi dicunt quis ostendit nobis bonum. Leva super nos lucem vultus tui Domine dedisti laetitiam in corde meo. In tempore frumentum et vinum eorum multiplicata sunt. In pace simul requiescam et dormiam. Quia tu Domine specialiter securum habitare fecisti me." Satisfied at least, Marcella reached up to block the window before finally falling asleep.

Translation of Latin Phrases, courtesy of Latin Bible

Psalms 4:1 - 4:10

Unto the end, in verses. A psalm for David.
When I called upon him, the God of my justice heard me: when I was in distress, thou hast enlarged me. Have mercy on me: and hear my prayer.
O ye sons of men, how long will you be dull of heart? why do you love vanity, and seek after lying?
Know ye also that the Lord hath made his holy one wonderful: the Lord will hear me when I shall cry unto him.
Be ye angry, and sin not: the things you say in your hearts, be sorry for them upon your beds.
Offer up the sacrifice of justice, and trust in the Lord: many say, Who sheweth us good things?
The light of thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us: thou hast given gladness in my heart.
By the fruit of their corn, their wine, and oil, they rest:
In peace in the self same I will sleep, and I will rest:
For thou, O Lord, singularly hast settled me in hope.

 

[Duchess]

Once Francis managed to gather his thoughts and sobered up at bit, he took another glass of wine as it passed to numb the thoughts and feelings that had returned. He had many questions for his sister but by the time he thought to ask them, she had up and disappeared as she always did. It was easy to say his sister had a knack for that sort and knew her way around the ports of Europe, but was it really that hard to confront your brother with the truth. Brushing his hair away from his face in near identical fashion as his sister would, he strode out of the ballroom and decided he would go on his own adventure. It was clear that had to be what his cousin and sister were doing without him. Right?

Smirking, he decided where he would go. Hadn't the eldest princess disappeared some time ago? She had always been beautiful in Francis's eyes, but a tad on the bitchy side not a woman of his liking. Hell, what did it matter? It'd be fun to hear her cry about rumors or some bull shit of that sort. It'd be fun and entertaining. Francis wasn't one to have a long attention span since he grew up with a million cousins and siblings running around, what would have been the fun in always following rules?

When Francis saw the stairs leading up the tower, he let out a loud groan, plopping himself down onto the floor. If anyone would have walked past to see his childish display, well he would have appeared to be a starfish. After his groaning and moaning session on the floor, he eventually got bored and crawled up the stairs to Evelyn's room. Once he managed to get to the top of the staircase, he noticed a rather pompous looking painting of the royal family hanging up outside. Scrunching his nose in disgust, Francis took the painting off the wall and threw it down the stairs following a fit of laughter. Oh the joys of being back in the castle. It was a glorious time indeed.

His lips turned into a frown as he soon realized he had no idea which door belonged to Princess Evelyn. Taking a few guesses and a few mistakes later, he poked his head inside her room, whispering, "Oh, princess. Princess, princess, princess. Where are you princess?" Pausing for a moment, he quickly stated, "I had a dog named Princess once and she never came when I did that. She got lost in the mines one day and was never seen again. Anyway..." Trailing off he noticed the tears on her face and cocked his head to the side, asking, "Why the tears? Aren't you supposed to be the future leader of this country? Some leader who cries just because she didn't get her way. Wow, we're gonna be involved in a lot of wars. Where's the nearest cliff? I'd rather my face not get damaged from war. It'd be a tragedy."

​

 

[Duchess]

Bellamy looked at Bjarke, saying, "I worry that we will not be able to meet those needs at this time. We may be able to supply some more bronze, but iron and coal has become harder to mine as of now. We lost many men this past winter so it has made things tougher for our people and with trade. I refuse to ask the women and children to work, so until some of the young men within the villages come to age, then we will make due with what we have." He folded his arms against his chest as he thought over his next words carefully. Letting out a sigh, he said, "I also request the help of all the northern houses as my youngest brother, Francis, has once again brought shame upon us. As many of you know he was to marry a woman who would strengthen our ties with the Holy Roman Empire, but it seems he has broke off this engagement and returned to the capitol to seek our sister. The woman he was to marry is highly upset, as expected, and her house along with their alliances are speaking of war against my house. If it comes to that, we will need men and more resources."

Looking towards John to see if he wanted to add anything, John quickly shook his head to say that it wasn't the time to discuss their nephew. John ran his fingers through his hair in thought, stealing a glance towards Serah. He found it amusing at how much her brother would do to protect her. She was a lady and he a beast, odd sibling duo to say the least, but he brushed off the thoughts and got back onto the task at hand. They had a lot of things to settle before making their journey south. Perhaps Elizabeth had found a suitor. Wasn't tonight one of the first parties of the summer? The less he had to hear from his parents the better. They were all in the dog house as far as their parents were concerned.

Bellamy clasped his brother's shoulder, gently, knowing that he had a lot on his mind. They both did and he wasn't sure how he could juggle all the thoughts. There was the issue of his siblings, their house running out of resources, and everything else that came with being Duke. He knew he couldn't spend all summer in the capitol, his own people needed him, but who came first? The people or his family? Unfolding his arms from across his chest, he sat up more in his seat, trying to focus on the meeting at hand.​

 

[Duchess]

As King Maximus exited his room, Charlie pulled Elizabeth and his nephew into the shadows. He covered Elizabeth's mouth who was confused by the sudden movement, but soon figured out why they were now hiding. Holding Little Bell close to her, she watched as Maximus left. She had always respected the king, but now she could never be too sure. If he truly were a pagan, well she hoped their house would back him up, after all majority of her house but her elders shared the same beliefs as her. Once their king was out of sight, she turned to Charlie, asking, "What were they talking about? I couldn't hear through the door, you know I've never had good hearing."

"Lady Clad is now in charge of Nacht's Reach. It seems that her husband has died." Charlie found this very odd and peculiar, possibly something to look into. It wasn't everyday that a respected lord, especially the one of Nacht's Reach perished in training. It just simply wasn't normal. He had always respected House Clad, but for them to have control of Nacht's Reach? He didn't have that much respect. Bjarke was a beast and he knew very well that Serah could take care of herself, but when she married again, would it be to a northern lord or a southern lord? There was too many issues surrounding the situation, so he quickly dismissed them and focused back in on his cousin's response.

"That can't be. Who will she marry? Who will she..." Elizabeth trailed off as she looked down at her son, letting out a sigh, "What I would do to be a child again." Picking the five year old up and setting him on her hip, she said, "Why don't we go to bed? Your uncle and I can discuss things in the morning when I have rested."

Little Bell stuck out his lip, shaking his head, "I want to stay with Uncle Charlie." Elizabeth wasn't sure what to say to her son. She had tried to be there for him as much as she could, but did he see her cousin as more of a parent than herself? Only if he understood. Perhaps he would when he were older, but for now, she would hand him over to his uncle. Passing the child back to Charlie, she kissed his cheek then Charlie's, whispering a good night in their home language. Wrapping her arms around herself, she slowly made it back to her room, soon remembering that she had asked some time with Elric to explain what her brother had so boldly told him. It wasn't as if she cared what he thought, but she wanted his respect as they both lived in the north and if the Clayburns and Masseurs hated each other, well things couldn't go so well for anyone. Once she was safe inside her room, she sent her maid with a note to find Elric as she wasn't sure if he was still in the king's chambers or had managed to find his way back to his own bed.

When her maid returned to her room, informing Elizabeth of Elric's departure, she couldn't have felt a little saddened. What was going on in the north that allowed his immediate departure? Sighing, she dismissed the young woman and returned to brushing out her long tresses. It had been too eventful of a night for her to retire to her bed yet and she still had many letters to write before the morning light broke through her now drawn curtains. Trading her brush out for her quill, she lightly dipped it into the ink allowing her words to flow elegantly against the paper in front of her. Elizabeth wrote her letters well into the night, sending them to different places in the north with the cover of the dark sky, including Nacht's reach. She hoped that at least one of her brother's would be there to receive it. She sent her best rider and she hoped it would arrive by the late afternoon, if it didn't, then she could have to wait for their word for a moment longer. When she finally saw the dawn of daylight break through her curtains, she decided to lie down for an hour or so. It wasn't as if she would rest well, but at least she could attempt to rest.
​

 

[Tanstin]

Garlen Mattowick​

The Houndmaster surveyed the party in slight distaste, the party had begun to die down already, which was rather a shame, he had many nobles on his list that would do well to regard him, talking to them here would save the trouble of finding them scattered across the land, wherever they may be. His mind drifted off to what he could only describe as a distant, but near-dream.. The king was to be revealed a filthy pagan, and his surrounding men would turn against him, his castle would very well crumble before the torch and the sword of the people, and he would see himself rising to the occasion...No..someone else? For some reason or another, he could not picture the thought of him asserting the throne, there was too much competition..but who?

He made a vigorously tight fist in his right hand, for but a moment he felt pure hate for everyone, and all those around him..they all seek the same, they all wish to supplant the king through trickery and deceit, surely the kingdom would fall under their rule. He may be doing the same, but it was for a just cause...it had to be...The others would only fight for themselves, under his rule, he would save the kingdom, and abolish the pagan king.

These were rather lofty and childlike aspirations, especially for the Baron, and he knew he shouldn-

"I shall rejoin you in the party hall, Sir Mattowick."

Graesson's voice quickly snapped back into reality. The lad went off before he could respond, but it was no matter, Mattowick gave his horse to a stable boy and went off into the court.

He called in a servant and contented himself with a glass of good wine, music, and the receding banter of the other noblefolk.

"Duris! You old hound, still fancy a good hunt now and again?"

"Annabella, Dear lady, I'm surprised your corset still fits, one would suspect no less of you."

"Still alive, Kirin? Hah, It worries me that your taste for good food hasn't killed you yet."

His conversations went something like this, quick and cheerful, every now and then he would partake in a dance. The Baron looked to be enjoying himself. However, inside he was tired, so tired. After some time, he took a seat, watching men and women zoom in and about the court between sips of wine. This land was very different from England, once known as Anglo-Saxony before the Normans had taken over ages ago. He watched as the nobles talked and danced amongst each other as the party began to recede. These people were so...fake and concealed, just like the king. It angered and befuddled him twice over, the stress being concealed by a slightly forced grin.

He noticed some of the princesses' guard of which he had encountered earlier back at the forest, a lucky call that he was not seen getting rid of the informant, at this very moment his houndkeepers were off tracking down any contacts of him, it was likely that he was part of some syndicate that he would investigate later, he had a knack for discovering things, especially with a hound by his side.

His hand brushed against a foreign object strapped to the side of his hip. Looking down, he noticed it was a Sax, a blade too short to be called a shortsword, but two long to be regarded as a knife. His eyes widened as he realized its pretense. He had brought it initially as a means of cutting of a certain informants fingers if he had refused to talk, however that occasion never arose. The weapon was particularly well-concealed, but nevertheless he had brought one into the king's inner court, surely an offense with grave connotation. He stood up, silently and walked over to what he deemed an empty room and hid it in a dresser as quickly and quietly as he dared.

"Curses upon me." The baron muttered under his breath."

The gatekeeper would have found it, if it were not for Graesson. For now, he had to content himself with leaving it there, he could not be associated with a weapon in such a festivity.


​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Evelyn sat up once Tristan left her, wiping at her eyes and moving to examine her mirror. Broken pieces everywhere that no on seemed to notice, good. She moved them into a pile so they'd be out of the way, wincing when she pricked her finger on one of them. She scowled at her reflection, distorted by the shattered pieces. Sighing, she got up and moved to change. She slipped out of her gown, she didn't bother with corsets as her figure naturally suggested one and stripped out of the under gown. Reaching for her night gown , she stepped into it and almost had her arms in when a crash from outside drew her attention. "What on earth…" She held the gown up and crouched, fetching one of the long mirror shards. Where the hell were her guards? Wasn't there supposed to be someone up here… She recoiled when her door was opened and quickly covered her breasts, glaring at…Francis Clayburn??

"Get out--!" Her exclamation was swallowed up by his drunken taunting. She touched her face, realizing her cheeks and eyes were probably still a bit red from her fit earlier. She scoffed and turned her back, covering herself by getting all the way into her gown(though her shoulders were still quite bare, quite a scandal to see that much of the princess) then turning to face the drunken menace in her door way. She tossed the shard of glass back with the rest and put her hands on her hips. What was his point? Was this some childish game? Little boys were often cruel to the objects of their affections, perhaps this was the same. She strode towards him, stopping near enough to be able to look up into his face. "A ruler who never sheds tears isn't a worthy one. There are plenty of things to cry about and you've happened to catch me in such a moment." She smoothed down her gown and gestured around his back. "However there is a window at the end of the hall that will surely allow you a swift death. No promises you won't land on your face though."

She wandered further into her room and took a seat at her vanity. Picking up her brush, she set about combing through her long tresses. "What's your angle, Lord Clayburn? A noble who denies responsibility and whores his way through Europe is here, telling me how to live up to my station?" She watched him in the reflection of the small mirror on the vanity, again unable to not notice how handsome he was. "You're handsome and clever from I can tell, though drunkenly telling family secrets and letting yourself into my bedroom prove otherwise." She set down the brush and turned to face him. "Are you trying to woo me? If that's the case you'd better be a wonderful warrior to make up for these blunders." It was…invigorating to tease and joke this way. She was so used to maintaining perfect composure that this sort of…clever flirtation was welcome exercise to her mind. And Francis was...well undeniably attractive. And his awful reputation only fueled that for such a prim girl as Evelyn.​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Free from the King, Illia made her way to the doors to bid farewells to the nobles who were not staying at the castle. As a courtesan, half of her job was to entertain so she felt it her job to ensure everyone would be comfortable. When the ballroom was finally cleared out, Illia wandered over to the bar area and poured herself a stiff drink. So much to think over. The Clayburns, there were four of them here now. Francis was a wild card, she'd have to do everything in her power to keep him away from the princesses. Charlie and Elizabeth seemed reasonable enough from what she could tell. Duke Masseur had had a private talk with the King that could prove favorable for him marrying one of the princesses. Then there was the whole debacle with Lillith. She was sure Evelyn had something to do with it, and of course she'd been forced to tell the King as much and about how two knights and Tristan's knightess had left the party to pursue her. No good there.

And then their was Garlen Mattowick. She hadn't expected him to show up, what with the rumors of his desire to usurp. Maximus would have to be reminded of him. And then there was the mysterious blonde woman, who was not in fact blonde. Illia's sharp eyes had noticed the little slip of her wig. She hadn't recognized her and none of the nobles she'd whispered to had any idea who she was either. No need to burden the King with that, Illia would look into herself in the morrow when the celebrations picked back up. And the remaining Northerners would likely arrive tomorrow too. Illia would ensure she put in a good word for both princesses among them, and perhaps worm some information about this Bjarke she heard so much talk about.

With her thoughts gathered and written in shorthand on a piece of parchment, and her wine gone, Illia made her way to her quarters at the bottom of the princesses' tower. She hoped Lillith would stop by and talk to her as she often was inclined to do. The young woman stripped out of her gown and into her nightgown. It was rather risqué for the time but Illia's job often included…entertaining male guests. Usually happily as she enjoyed the aspect and it was one of the few times she usually had opportunity to taste human blood. She'd yet to meet a man who told her not to bite him. They were usually…distracted by her unique skill set.

She climbed into bed and lay still, letting her eyes slide shut. It would take her a bit to fall asleep, but if she was undisturbed she would sleep soundly until morning.

​

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Bjarke listened as Bellamy explained the situation arising with the Catholic Church. Bjarke himself was a practicing Pagan, a worshiper of a trinity of gods. He held no great love for the monotheistic hypocrites, he found that their religion's rules only applied when it suited them. Of course if the Clayburns needed help the Clad's would gladly supply their swords and soldiers.

"Dear cousins, should the time arise that I be given the chance to cut down some Holy Roman cunt's I will gladly lead my Pack into battle in the name of House Clayburn and Francis's right to marry or fuck whoever he so chooses."

Bjarke smiled and then grew somber as he cast his gaze towards Rolfe of Pinecliff, he did not see the man as a brother, nor a cousin. Bjarke simply stared at the man and finally couldnt hold back his tongue and let his emotion get the better of him when he spoke.

"So what does our great Elric Massur of Pinecliff need? Hm?" Bjarke asked in a mocking tone. Fuck this shifty little man who dared come into his presence as a second choice of a guest and assume such a regal attitude. Bjarke wouldnt mind going a few rounds in the sparring arena with this winded little twat.

 

[Ko T'suno]

Tristan, Maehel and the two remaining guards hadn't heard Robert over their own conversation but Maehel seemed to look back every so often.
"Something on your mind Mae?" Tristan asked under his breath as the group walked into the palace.

"Arren, his actions tonight might of costed me and Sypher our lives." She started her words causing Tristan to stop mid stride.
"How so?" He asked, a slight touch of anger slowly rolling up from his insides.
"Our run in with the Houndsman of the North......" She began as she explained the events of tonight.

"Hmm.....so what was the Houndsman doing in the woods?" Tristan asked as they walked into the ballroom.
"I am unsure, but their was the smell of blood." Maehel replied in a soft whisper as she spoke.
"Blood?" Tristan asked as they walked into the main hall towards the southwest tower of the castle.
"Aye..." Their conversation continued as they walked, the language switching as they came within earshot of the remaining nobles and servants in the hall. Their conversation only ending when they made their way up the stairs and up the hall that lead to Tristan's room.

"Good hunting." Tristan said softly as they reached his room. The two guards who had followed him and Maehel bowed their heads and took to their posts at his door.

"Da'len, might i have a word?" Maehel said softly as she entered with him.
"Of course, what is it?"
"...Nevermind, I have found my answer...may the stars guide you tonight." She promptly stated before bowing and leaving the room. To join the others in the forest for the night.

"Hmm wonder what that was about.." Tristan said with a shrug as he unclipped his cloak and tossed it onto the chair of the window desk, the remainder of his clothing soon joining the cloak. The chill air touching his exposed flesh summoned a shiver to rise through him causing him to dive into the large bed with a chuckle as he wiggled into the sheets. "Ah happy hunting Tinnuviels....May the stars guide you." He prayed softly as he knew that six of his kin were out in the woods surrounding the palace. The calm of this knowledge luring him to sleep...

 

[Lady Myst]

Serah saw her brother itching to start a fight with the little man and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Not now," she murmured before looking towards Rolfe, her expression icy regality. "Have patience my brother," she addressed Bjarke. "He is still Elric's representative... as long as he is within the walls of this keep," she added pointedly, reminding the little man just how little he mattered on the outside. Once he left the keep, which she would ensure he did at the end of the meeting, he was in very real danger of his own making if he didn't watch his tongue and attitude.

She looked down at the papers in front of her, quickly picking out the most pressing matters. "Nacht's Reach is ready to provide high quality timber to anyone who can supply us with wool and horses. Several of my people's homes were burned down by an unknown party. I am housing them here in the keep until their homes can be rebuilt, so wool for blankets and clothing is especially needed," she paused then looked at each of the lords with a serious expression. "And be assured I intend to find out who harmed my people and thus myself in such a way, and when I do they shall pay dearly."

She looked at the next page. "My late husband's steward requested to hold a tournament here in two months time. Considering the climate, both weather and political, I denied the request. I also suggested that it is time that the steward resign, as he is advanced in age. He did not take the suggestion well but my mind is made up. Since you are all wiser then I, I would greatly appreciate any insight or advice you might have on this matter," she said, pointedly ignoring Rolfe. She was not interested in anything he had to say.

 

[SheriffLlama]

"I hate that woman." Arren muttered when Maehel was out of earshot. He glanced to Robert as the question was made. "A missive for the king." He said, dropping his formal speech as the presence of nobles had cleared. "Mattowick seemed tense about something. It unsettled me..." He reached into his cloak to reassure the letter was there. "Let's join the party and get it over with." He said. "I'm getting tired of nobles tonight."

He walked from the stable, allowing his cloak to fall over his torso. When the night was over, Arren made his way to the king's chambers, glancing at the guard by the door. "Sir." The guard said. Arren nodded before knocking on the door, dropping into a kneel with the missive in his hand. He waited for the king to answer.

 

[VengefulPeanut]

-Robert Bowman, Knight of the Kings Guard-

"A missive for the king." Robert furrowed his brow for a moment as he tried to ponder the implications of Arren's response.

"A missive?" he asked in response.

"Mattowick seemed tense about something. It unsettled me..." While Mattowick being tense and acting like he was about to declare war on any he come across wasn't alien to the young knight, the context was indeed worrying. Arren had every right to be unsettled - even Lilith couldn't ruffle feathers so much to warrant that kind of response. No, there was some other business going in the background. A rotten feeling settled in Robert's gut, a feeling that he was going to hate summer for the rest of his life.

Before Robert's idle pondering and fretting could continue, Arren spoke once up once more. "Let's join the party and get it over with," he said, "I'm getting tired of nobles tonight."

"Hah!" Robert chuckled obtusely, "You'd better get used to it. If plans remain static then we shall be sparring with one of them in morning's practice."

As the pair filtered back in to the party, the rest of the night seemed to simply breeze away. Nobles eventually began to retire for the night and the music lulled to a slow and steady pace, ushering people on their way. The gentle and sombre melodies that the band played made Robert's eyes feel heavy and the fatigue of the event and the drama that unfolded within it finally showed its toll. Catching a yawn before it could escape his lips, Robert noticed Arren heading away from the party as the last of the nobles quit the hall. Well, time to do the rounds, I guess. First, he patrolled the perimetre of the hall, assuring himself no drunken nobles or dastardly assassins had made a little night nest for themselves in the concealed crevices that littered the outskirts of the grand hall. When he was satisfied, he signalled to the guards at the door with a wave of his hand, letting them know it was okay to close the hall up for the night. Things actually looked hopeful for once and Robert could almost smell the sleep he was so due. Next, the kitchens, then the halls. With Arren visiting the King on official business there was no need to check his quarters so all that was left was the king's daughters. Now this one was the wildcard. Crossing his fingers that Lilith had returned quietly to her chambers, Robert ascended the stairs with a hopeful heart. However, something was off and it wasn't with the sister one would expect. The princess Evelyn's chamber seemed unguarded. "By god I swear if I get my hands on these castle guards one of these days..." he grumbled to himself. As he approached the door, he heard voices from within.

"Are you trying to woo me? If that's the case you'd better be a wonderful warrior to make up for these blunders."

It was the voice of Princess Evelyn. What was going on in there? Knowing better than to blunder into a princess' room, he gave three strong knocks against the door, the sound being amplified by the stone of the palace. "My Lady Evelyn, are you okay in there? I noticed that your guards are absent from their posts. Do you need my assistance at all?" As much as the set up worried him, it was not his place to intervene in a princess' private affairs and if Evelyn had found herself a suitor then it was definitely something that Robert should leave alone. While he wasn't all too enthralled by the boiling pot of hormones these events were and the false fancies of lust they inspired he knew it was how the Kingdom had to progress. It was the plan of his King, after all. However, despite that, he wasn't going to throw caution to the wind - especially if Evelyn had found herself in a tight spot.

@SheriffLlama @GoodEveningClarice

(And Duchess of Aedralith but the tag thing wouldn't work for me :'( )​

 

[Duchess]

Francis allowed his eyes to wander the length of her body, slowly nodding his approval. When she shouted get out, well he only took another step into her room, leaning against the wall as his foot kicked the door closed behind him. As she continued on with her short monologue, he rolled his eyes before saying, "Love, a ruler should never shed tears in front of anyone but himself or herself. If you allow someone to see your weaknesses, especially someone with power, how do you know they won't use that against you?" Looking down at her, he almost reached out to grab her by her waist and pull her to him, but the small part of his mind that was sober told him not too. Chuckling at her comment about the window, he said, "I know exactly where the window is. I used to explore these halls as a boy. I didn't spend all my time in the winter locked north."

Walking farther into the room, he looked around as she began speaking again. He only halfway listened but the more she spoke the angrier he became. When she addressed him as Lord Clayburn, his cheeks flushed in anger. Francis may have been born a noble, but that didn't mean he would ever address himself as one. It wasn't who he was. He was the baby boy and the easiest for his parents to toy with. Had he ever denied responsibility? Yes, but look at his last name. Clayburns were notorious for this type of behavior. If she knew one thing about his gene pool, well she would know that off the top of her head. He rubbed the back of his neck and the more she quipped at him the more sober he became. He had been engaged to a woman for close to a year, had he taken a few other women to his bed? Of course, he was a man, but he hadn't made his way around Europe.

"Princess, I wasn't aware that my nephew was a family secret. I assumed that she had been married for I have spent much of the past year or so of my life in another country. Elizabeth was never my father or mother's favorite and much like me, well she was a pawn in their games. It wouldn't have surprised me that I wouldn't have been at the wedding, I was worrying with my own. Now as for letting myself into your bedroom..." Trailing off he approached her slowly until he was mere inches from her. Leaning down as she turned around to face him, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, whispering, "I let myself in here to meet my future queen." Pressing his lips to her cheek, gently, he stood back to his full height exiting her room. When he saw Robert, he gave a slight nod of his head before heading to his room to retire for the night. ​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Evelyn was too wrapped up in her hair to notice him slinking up behind her, thinking on his retorts. His family was known for being rather…scandalous. Still, she couldn't imagine shirking her duties that way or disgracing her family. The very thought made her nauseous. She turned to face him with plenty of intention to express her thoughts, but suddenly she was pulled to her feet and Francis was leaning all the way down to press his lips to her cheek. The feeling of his mouth coupled with the rough touch of his stubble on top of never having been touched in such a way brought a crimson flush to her cheeks. The princess stared up at him, lips slightly parted as she searched for words. She barely heard Robert's concerned knocking but managed to get her mouth moving before Francis pulled away. "You have much to prove, Francis Clayburn." She watched him go and then touched her cheek, feeling a smile stain her lips despite herself.

Remembering Robert, she quickly threw on a silk robe to make herself more presentable. She pressed open her door and smiled sweetly at the blonde. Some of the guard got on her nerves, but Robert was kind and genuine and she didn't have it in her to be rude to him, despite her treatment of some of the servants. "Everything is fine, Sir Robert. Thank you for your concern." She shut the door behind her lest he spy the broken mirror which would hardly relax the knight. "Please, get some rest. I'm sure you've had as trying a night as I have." As she spoke her caught on…was that her family portrait at the bottom of the stairs? Francis Clayburn strikes again. "Would you mind having someone hang that back up?" She shook her head and patted Robert's forearm. "Good night."

She shut the heavy door then leaned against it, unsuccessfully fighting the girlish giggle that left her trembling lips. She wandered to her bed and tossed her robe to the side, spreading across the fine bed clothes and replaying the last hour's events in her head. Lilith hadn't ruined the night after all. Doubt mixed with her elation. Was Francis toying with her? Was that just some cover up to keep her from calling the guards on him? She let her eyes fall shut and forced her mind to stop turning. She'd figure out in the morning.

​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

King Maximus had just climbed from a hot bath when he heard the tapping on his door. Not a moment of peace. He got up and strode over after tossing a robe on. He cracked the door then opened it fully when he noted it was Arren on the floor. He'd honestly been hoping for Tristan, but his loyal knight must have had something to say. "Rise, Arren." He took the missive from him, eyebrow raising at the seal. The Houndsman? What could he possibly want? "Thank you Arren." He tossed the envelope on his desk to read in the morning, he didn't want anymore strange news for one night. He would have shut the door on a normal night and gone to bed, the earlier events with Lilith came to mind. He glanced at the knight and moved close so he could whisper. "You will call a gathering of the Knight's Guard in the morning. I wish to speak to all of you about the little blunder earlier this evening. I'll meet you all in the throne room by nine." He nodded at the other man and shut the door. He had no more need of talking. Turning and approaching his bed, he changed his mind and snatched the missive, taking it to bed with him. He set on the nightstand as he climbed in and ditched the robe, wanting the sheets on his bare skin. He reached for the missive and again changed his mind. He blew out the candle and sighed, sinking into the bedding. It could wait till morning, whatever it was.

​

 

[VengefulPeanut]

-Robert Bowman, Knight of the Kings Guard-

Not long after he had spoke the door craned open. However, the figure emerging was not the feminine form he was expecting. Francis Clayburn... he thought to himself, recognising the individual almost instantaneously. The young noble certainly had a reputation about him and the self-righteous nod he so nonchalantly delivered as he passed grated on Robert's nerves. Following the noble with drawn eyes as he disappeared down the stairs, a scowl grew upon the knight's face. His attention was soon drawn elsewhere, however, as the princess' door creaked open again and her voice echoed from behind him.

"Everything is fine, Sir Robert. Thank you for your concern. Please, get some rest. I'm sure you've had as trying a night as I have." Her attention seemed to become diverted for a moment as she eyed the fallen painting which lay behind him. "Would you mind having someone hang that back up?"

"I'll see to it myself immediately, my lady," he began, a gasp of air escaping his lips as he stopped himself from continuing. Something in his gut was compelling him to press the Clayburn issue, to make sure she really was okay. Yet, he knew. He knew that even if there was something wrong he was a knight and not her confidant. Even to place himself in that position would have been wrong. Evelyn was a strong girl and so he surmised that she could take care of herself. "Good night, my lady..." he said softly, taking a respectful bow. "If there is anything at all you need. Well, you know where I am." Nodding his head, he excused himself as Evelyn disappeared back into her room. Propping the painting back into its original position was a pretty basic and menial task, a task it didn't seem worth bothering the servants with. Once he had finished, he followed in the footsteps of the Clayburn out of the tower and back towards the main hall.

The Knight's chambers weren't incredibly luxurious nor were they particularly impoverished. They had basic decor and a heavy military theme, the beds within were quilted with a basic linen duvet and the furniture was of Pinefell imported wood. Heading down the corridor, Robert finally reached his room. He grasped the handle and proceeded inside, an act that almost felt like stepping across a national border. In his humble room, there was no political intrigue or risk of assassins, there was just his bed, his chest and his father's old shield adorned on the wall still marred with the scratches of blades - a different world entirely to the one he was leaving behind.

Unclipping his armour, piece by piece, the physical and psychological weight of the day almost lifted entirely and while he knew this was only the first tiring day of many to come the fact that he had reached the end of it was good enough. He slipped out of his boots and volleyed himself onto the bed, the wood creaking slightly as it accommodated his landing. Pulling a book on military strategy from under his pillow, he took some time of leisure to enjoy the quiet before the hour was starting to grow too late. So, with a removal of his flax tunic, he slid under his covers, blew the candle out and drifted into an exhausted sleep.

"No more, Robert... You can't do this anymore!"

"I'll do what I damn well please!"

"Is this what he would have wanted!? Do you think this makes you a man!?"​

 

[Duchess]

Bellamy looked to Rolfe a look of disdain on his boyish features. Looking back at Bjarke, he let out a chuckle, "Can't you be nice to our fellow cousin of the north? He is a representative for Elric." Sitting up in his chair, muttering under his breath, he added, "Only if we liked him." As Serah began to speak, Bellamy grew silent to listen, but didn't speak up to offer help at Nacht's Reach. Their resources were far and few between as it was, they couldn't spare one horse without the threat of their miniature society in the mountains collapsing. Bellamy only wished he were there now, but he was needed here then in the capitol.

John nudged his brother as he spoke out against Rolfe. It wasn't a good idea to make enemies at Nacht's Reach and that had to safely make it to the capitol in one piece. Sighing, he looked over at Serah then to Bejarke as he asked, "Before Rolfe speaks, may I inform you of some...pressing matters informing my sister?" Looking between the pair then to Rolfe, he quickly continued, saying, "Elizabeth has given birth to a son...out of wedlock. Her son is close to the age of six and we have been able to keep him a secret for some time. I wasn't aware of my nephew until this past winter while Bellamy was present at his birth. We believe Francis has gone to the capitol to confront her, but if he goes to the capitol then that could put Elizabeth into a compromising position. We only ask that you help us protect our sister. Serah, you as a woman should understand and I hope that you can convince your brother to understand. With that, Bellamy and I are leaving in the morning to ride to the capitol." Rising from his seat, John bowed before exiting the room, not wanting to speak on the subject of his sister much longer. He would leave the rest of the meeting to Bellamy.

Once John was outside of the meeting room, he found Tyra and informed her that she would stay at Nacht's Reach to help Serah until she was sent to capitol. He wanted the young girl to get close to Bjarke and possibly befriend him. This was a time where he needed to make sure everything was going within their favor.

Bellamy watched as John left the room before he turned his focus back at the meeting in hand, waiting for Bjarke or Serah to end the meeting. ​

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Bjarke calmed himself at his sister's request, no sense in making her cross with him. He sat in his seat and stroked his beard, he heard Ÿrd letting out a few low breaths. Bjarke looked up to him and saw the fat bastard had taken to nodding off, poor man couldnt stay awake for anything save battle and ale. Bjarke focused again as the Clayburns said their piece, a most shocking addition to the worries plaguing the north. His sisters steward could be addressed briefly so he did so before addressing the secret bastard of Elizabeth. John left the room and Bjarke sensed he needed to relieve himself of this place as well.

"Relieve the old man of his duties, he can be sour about it in his old age and whimper to the gods when they claim him," Bjarke said looking towards his sister, "Now, as for Francis going to see his nephew I would keep this privey only to the Northerners. When we arrive in the capitol tomorrow if Francis is there I will have my men escort him back to your family's territory. And should this become a problem with the other people at the kings council I will gladly take up arms to defend the bastard and your sister. Now as for the needs of Nacht's Reach I'm sure father can help, so I will promise the aid of Clad's Keep to Lady Serah of the Nacht's Reach."

Bjarke stood and bowed to everyone in the room and heard Ÿrd take a sudden breath and wake up. He walked to the door and on his way out kissed the top of his sisters head.

"With that me and my warriors will take a leave from Nachts Reach and visit the brothel's women, should you need to find me in the morning I will likely be there. So I bid you Lords adieu, sweet sister I wish you pleasant dreams." Bjarke said leaving the room, when he was outside he spotted the servant Tyra and smiled looking over her. He would not bed her this night, it was his duty to visit the brothel. He descended the council chamber's steps and moved to the main dining hall where his men were. He made the announcement that the politics were done and it was time for the Pack to do what it did best. He led the men to the brothel and soon the place was bustling, some women had to handle several men at a time. Bjarke however was granted two women, both of beautiful quality. He, Ÿrd, Maryn and Tilki sat in a corner with the women on their laps and the lot of them were sharing stories and drinks. Maryn was telling a story about how he once made a shot through a womans legs to kill a boar running up on them, Bjarke knew it to be utter shit, so did the women but of course their duty as whores was to keep a man happy.

Eventually the night grew tiresome and most of his men had fallen over drunk, some had taken women to elsewhere to make their evening brighter. Bjarke could hear the song of love being sung upstairs and laughed with the two women on his arms. Ÿrd had long since passed out, after giving Tilki a lesson on how to take a woman to bed. Maryn was off somewhere seducing a castle maiden. Bjarke had the two women with him and was carrying them to a room in the brothel, one over each shoulder. The two were playfully squeeling as Bjarke, in his drunken state, attempted to imitate a wolf. To any sober onlooker he no doubt looked to be a fool as he climbed into bed and began his ritual of philandering.