| Marriage, Tapestries, and Wine |
| Summary: | Nobles converge in the tavern once more, the night before the impending wedding |
| Date: | 02/24/1866 |
| Related: | None |
| NPCs: | {$npc} |
| Players: |
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| Aequor - Mastings - Moldy Mug Tavern |
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The Moldy Mug is the heart of the village's social life, and now that the army has arrived it has become the heart of their social life as well. There is barely a time of day or night when the Moldy Mug's tables aren't full up and with yet more patrons standing while they drink. Nobles of course can find a seat, as can common born officers of the legion, but all others must fend for themselves where finding a table and a bite to eat are concerned. The warmth of the Mug's hearth is available for all, often accompanied with the savoury smells of whatever is roasting on the spit or whatever is being prepared in the kitchen beyond the bar. Drink is plentiful with ale and beer available as are some local drinks such as a strong sweet wine made from currents and a clear distilled drink that is stronger still. In addition to the drinks a few whores of questionable appearance and health mingle with the patrons with dubious pleasures on offer. The Mug is raucous but a tavern keeper keeps a keen eye out for trouble and the Prince's guards are close by in in the command center should things get out of hand. |
| 2/24/1866 |
With the corner table taken, Elrick had decided to occupy one of the larger tables at the tavern for himself, his cousin, a two of his Knight-Captains who are apparently just leaving. "Good night, My Lords." They say to their heir and also the younger cousin, Stellan, bowing respectfully before turning to the exit. That means that the table has some extra empty seats with the new departures. Elrick appears to be staying longer as he shifts his attention to his cousin, "Looks like the men's spirits are improving, with the festivities approaching for tomorrow. I'm glad, Couz, it had been a dark couple of days since that patrol."
The young cousin tips his head politely to the departing soldiers. He was enjoying the wine and the change in mood among their numbers. When they do depart, he looks thoughtfully back at the older d'Tremaine. "It seems so. I'm sure they're eager for a break." He could hardly blame them. "Let us hope they don't get too carried away and nurse hangovers the following morning." He smirks faintly, though he doubted they would - everyone needed quite a bit of self-discipline to survive the conditions this far North and stay alive.
The Showshield arrives, looking almost sheepish in expression, but after shaking a bit of snow off her cloak, she makes her way to Elrick's table without hesistation. Funny that, she might not have done something of the nature a few weeks ago. She gives the d'Tremaine heir a half-smile and glances to the seat beside him in askance, before glancing to Stellan and giving him a nod in greeting.
It may not be the most appropriate place for a Lady, but, then again the warfront isn't either in general and that didn't stop her. For the past couple of weeks she's been on the arm of one Lord Joffrey but tonight she is solo as she walks into the Tavern. Snow leaves watedroplets on her cloak as it melts and she shrugs to shake it off then pushes back the hood with a gloved hand and looks around. A few familiar faces pass by her on their way out and she looks to their vacated seats and then sees Sir Nadine and smiles, walking toward her and the other at the table.
"They can get carried away and nurse hangovers, but they better be fit for duty when I check on them the next day." Elrick says with a smirk, glancing at the exit of the tavern while he brings his cup of wine to his lips for a long drink. "I am sure the two Captains will have their men under control, they do deserve the break, being away from home for so long." Sounds like the heir is willing to look over a minor mishap or two, but only if they are minor.
When Nadine arrives and approaches though, Elrick pushes his seat back and rises to his feet, a smile answered in greeting, "Commander Nadine, please, join us." The invitation extended as he moves to perform the knightly duty of pulling out the seat for her, apparently something new for him as well, at least here in the North. Before retaking his seat though, his gaze spost Genoveffa as she moves to join Nadine, bowing respectfully in greeting, "Good evening, My Lady, may I offer early congratulations?"
Nadine settles into the offered chair and then looks to Lady Genoveffa. "Indeed," she says simply, "congratulations are in order."
"Ever try to fight with a hangover? It's not easy." The squire seems to be speaking from personal experience. "But you're right. I'm sure they'll be vigilant." He sips from his wine again as his gaze lifts to the new arrivals at the table. It is then cut shorter than it was intended to be. He nods politely to Nadine, "Good eve, Sir Nadine." His gaze then shifts to Genoveffa and he offers a friendly smile. "And Lady Genoveffa. I'll add my own congratulations to the bucket."
Gwen smiles at the gathering at the table and looks to each one her smile growing at their congratulations. "Oh thank you all," she says then clasps her hands before her. "The snow has let us some tonight at least and everyone does seem a bit lighter of heart, I hope the wedding celebration offers a suitable means of relaxing and being happy for at least a time," she says softly.
Any talk about hangovers is placed on hold for the time being though Elrick does throw his cousin a smirk, as if to let Stellan know that he has indeed fought with a hangover before as well. "Indeed it will, My Lady, the men are already in higher spirits with the recent announcements. Thank you for such an opportunity." He then gestures to another empty seat at the table, "Please, join us." He then motions to a passing barmaid, "More wine, please."
"Watered for me," Nadine adds to the barmaid seriously. "Bread as well, if there is any available." A lifted brow towards Stellan and Elrick both, perhaps she had caught the tail end of that conversation… "Avoiding hangovers is wise and dutiful of any knight," she comments idly, but equally as serious.
Stellan acknowledges talking further about hangovers probably isn't the most appropriate thing to do in the company of a nice noble lady, so he nods to Nadine's words and seems content to leave it at that. He glances back and forth between Gwen and Elrick. "I'm certainly looking forward to it. I still need to pack and do laundry, though." He tilts his head absently as he ponders… he should probably be doing that instead of being here. He didn't have a small army of servants to order about here. "How long is the trip, usually?"
There is a soft smile at Elrick's offer, "I do not wish to intrude," she says and her gaze flits to Nadine then she takes a seat and smiles, "Pie, if you have it," she adds. Yes, it is a pie kind of night. "Well I have to say it is all father's doing, I did not imagine this excursion would end thus, I was pleasantly surprised to hear his decree," she says. "I.." and she quirks her mouth a moment, "I know that a surprise trip to the warfront was not wise, but honestly, being able to talk with the men, pray with them.. it seems the One made the best of my failure in more ways than, well, one."
"Of course, Commander, was just noting to my cousin that my two Captains will have their men under control, during the festivities." Elrick says to Snowshield as he reclaims his seat after both Nadine and Gwen had taken theirs. He then nods his head towards the latter, "If it was with your Lord Father's permission, then I am sure your safety was guaranteed, and the men no doubt more than appreciates the surprise visit. Anything to lift the spirits and morale will aid us in the war against these heathens."
Arriving in the tavern is Artos d'Acuto, his shoulders covered in his fur cloak and a layer of snow, though he does get rid of the snow at the door. He sees the small gathering at the table and approaches and gives a nod to each, "Sirs, my lord, my lady." He then removes his heavy leather gauntlets and tucks them into his belt, "I do believe congratulations are in order," he says with a nod to Genoveffa.
Stellan smiles when the baron arrives, evidently pleased that he was joining them. "Greetings, your Lordship. I see the rest has helped you quite a bit." He gestures to the vacant seats across from them. "We have plenty of room." A beat. "I look forward to the wedding pies."
Oh, Nadine is too polite to say that Gwen's arrival most certainly had NOT been approved by her father…
But that doesn't stop her from lifting a brow and giving Gwen a stern look that all but advises against lying. The One does not approve of liars.
Her hand moves to rest lightly on Elrick's forearm a moment, before the wine arrives and she accepts her cup graciously.
Even if Gwen wanted to lie, Elrick's mention of her father's permission catches her by surprise and the blush that rises to her cheeks is likely tell-tale of the fact of the matter. "It would have been, yes," she agrees, "Though I," and she pauses, seeing the new arrival and hearing his greeting, "They are and I thank you for them," she says in reply. She glances to Elrick's arm and the hand on it but a sip of wine covers her grinning mouth. Why she's grinning? There's no telling.
"Your Excellency, please, join us." Elrick says in greeting, the table filling up once again which seems to please the d'Tremaine. "Indeed, I am glad that you are recovering." But that is all he touches on, on the subject of that ill-fated patrol. Feeling Nadine's hand on his arm, he glances towards her briefly and smiles, distracted from catching Gwen blushing at the lack of admission or response, which is probably for the best. Ignorance is bliss, they say.
"It's not my first wound, though certainly the rest was needed to recover." Artos says politely and then nods, "But thank you." He takes a seat at the table and tries to find some relaxation, to no avail. "Bah," he exclaims in frustration and gives up, "Either way, it should be an enjoyable feast. I am certainly looking forward to it."
Stellan notices the blush, but doesn't quite know what she is blushing about. It would be quite rude to point it out and ask, so he doesn't. The feast and the food is still at the forefront of his mind. "I'm going to fill the wagon with foodstuffs when we get there, cousin, if you don't mind." He hums thoughtfully. "Unless we need other supplies."
Nadine shakes her head slightly, then sips her wine, saying nothing for the moment.
Gwen sips her wine then there is a little plate of pie set before her and she smiles widely, nodding up at the server, "My thanks," she says. Her eyes flick up at Nadine and she gives her a grateful smile then she turns a more broad smile to Artos, "Oh it will be, a well earned respite," she says of the feast.
"Now, now, Couz." Elrick says with a smirk, though his tone remains in jest, "I know you miss court life, but there are more important things to bring with us. Like finer wines and pretty w…" Cough, cross that thought from his mind, as he searches for another word, "western tapestries perhaps, my pavilion is a little bland." Lifting his cup of wine, the d'Tremaine takes a slow, long drink.
A vaguely amused look crosses Nadine's expression, and she murmurs in an undertone to Elrick, "Do you really think I am unaware of your previous conquests?"
The remark of food gets an eyeroll from the baron. Artos then raises a brow and barely holds back a chuckle at Elrick's near slip of the tongue, "Indeed, tapestries are certainly important." He finally finds some relaxation and says, "But yes, I also look forward to the feast."
A bemused expression settles on Gwen's face as she listens to Elrick, nodding indulgently to him, polite enough not to even blink at his w-w-w..western tapestries. Perhaps. She looks around the table then smiles, "You know, I think I shall take my dessert and see if my father would like some as well, if you'd all excuse me," she says and then rises. "Thank you all for the warm welcome and wishes, if I do not see you before, I look forward to your merriment at the celebration," she says then collects her dish of pie and heads for the door. Yes, she's taking the dish.
The squire chortles at both Elrick's train of thought and the word he chooses to attempt to save himself. "Aye. Tapestries. Our pavilion does look quite drab." It doesn't seem like Elrick was going to fool anyone. "You liked the stew, didn't you? I can't do that with simply meat and water. Of course, food does tend to rot…" Vegetables, anyway. His blue eyes dart up again when Gwen announces her impending departure and he gives her a respectful nod. "Be well, Lady Genoveffa."
The door to the inn opens and Marcus al'Sylenthar makes his way inside. The Wraith pulls back his hood and spotting some familiar faces makes his way over. "Pardon the interuption, but may I join you?" he asks glancing between those at the table giving especial attention to Artos and Stellan greeting them both with a nod.
The wine cup keeps the grin that Elrick may have shown hidden as he gives Nadine a look of mock innocence, as if he does not know what she speaks of. When Genoveffa rises to excuse herself from the table, the d'Tremaine also bows his head, "Good night, Lady Genoveffa." Another smirk is tossed at Stellan, "There is enough snow out here where you can store it, no?" When Marcus arrives and approaches, Elrick nods to the al'Sylenthar, "Lord Marcus, it is good to see you on your feet again and recovered."
Artos nods to Genoveffa, "Farewell," is all he spares, keeping relatively quiet until his nephew arrives. The arriving al'Sylenthar gets a nod, "Lord Marcus. Indeed, you are recovering rather well, it seems."
The d'Tremaine squire smiles kindly to Marcus as he arrives, apparently in good health. "Hello Lord Marcus. There's a seat awaiting you." He now sips at his wine again. "You must be looking forward to the upcoming nuptials, too, I assume?" Food and warmth!
"Lord al'Sylenthar," Nadine says stiffly.
Marcus grins "Greetings," he says and "Yes, I am feeling much better," he says taking the offered seat. "And yes, the wedding will be a nice break from, cold, snow, barbarians and bears," he jests lightly. Nadine's stiff greeting is not remarked upon.
"A nice break indeed, especially if it is away from bears and barbarians." Elrick says as he drains the rest of the wine from his cup, not surprised by Nadine's stiff greeting to the new arrival. A glance at the pitcher of wine at the middle of the table is made but the d'Tremaine chooses not to refill his cup, "I think I should head back to my encampment as well, make sure the preparations for tomorrow are completed."
"And I'll go with you," Nadine says swiftly, though a faint blush comes to her cheeks. "We… ah… have a few things to discuss."
Stellan nods sagely to his cousin. "I will contemplate which tapestry designs may look good on the pavilion," he jests with a nod. "Rest well, cousin. It'll be a long day, but of the good sort." For his part, he was going to indulge in more wine, and he refills is own cup. "Goodnight, Sir Nadine," he is quick to add before she runs off with him.
"Crow-taken bears," Artos grumbles and rubs temple, "But I doubt the creatures will be at the wedding, at least I hope so!" He grumbles and sneezes. The departing nobles are noted, as is Nadine's blush, "Indeed." He gives a small smile at that and says, "Good night."
"Doubtless," Marcus says with a smile towards Nadine and Elrick. He however does fill his cup and looks around the table at those remain. "So, quiet night for the rest of us then, hm?"
As Elrick rises to his feet, he offers Nadine a smile and waits for her since she will be accompanying him back to camp. Yet another smirk is tossed to Stellan, "Thank Couz, you do that, I do not like disappointments." Looking to the other two noble Lords, the d'Tremaine heir inclines his head to both, "Have a good rest of the evening, My Lords." Then a hand is offered to Nadine, "Shall we?"
There is almost a devious glint in the squire's eye as he nods once more to his cousin. He inclines his head in Marcus's direction when the man speaks. "It seems so. Just us and the wine. We could have a worse companion." He drinks from his cup, almost on cue.
Nadine places her hand in Elricks and departs.
"True," Marcus agrees readily of the fact. "So, how do you find things in camp?" he asks Stellan before glancing towards the retreating Nadine and Stellan. "And I suppose the rumours about those two are true then?" he asks as he looks back to the squire.
"They're finally improving," Stellan answers the al'Sylenthar. "I have no doubt everyone is going to take the opportunity to enjoy themselves at the wedding feast, so morale may stay up for a bit afterwards, as well. Assuming there are no more tragedies." His gaze flickers back to the door Elrick and Nadine just passed through. "Just a -little- bit. They're with each other every night."
"Could certainly be worse, indeed," Artos notes. "And it does appear so." He shrugs and snags a cup for himself and pours the jug's contents into it, "And yes, the wedding will certainly help morale for a while."
Marcus takes a sip of wine. "Lucky them," he remarks about Nadine and Elrick. "And yes, the wedding should be interesting certainly the first of it's kind up here I'll imagine."
Stellan cocks a brow. "I think the actual ceremony will be in Murnord, thankfully. I can't imagine it being here." There's a pause. "The idea seems to be to fool the barbarians into thinking it's up here… but…" He bites his lower lip. "I'm not entirely convinced it's going to work. They would have to be pretty daft to think Mastings would be a suitable place for a wedding, wouldn't they?" Then again, they may not be known for their brilliance.
"That… would be interesting," Artos says, "I do not see why the ceremony could not be performed up here, though I could see why some would have reservations." He shrugs and takes a drink.
"Is it in Murnord?" Marcus asks surprised. "Well that saves me from finding suitable clothing then, don't think I am up for a ride there and back," he says rubbing his chest. True, you don't ride with your chest but the jarring motion would not be pleasant. "Anyhow, the other question is, do the barbarians listen to camp rumours?" he asks, then frowns as he gives that some thought. "Truth be told I never gave much thought to them having spies. Though, I guess it is possible…" he looks at the other two for their thoughts.
Stellan turns to Artos now. "Aside from the barbarians, Mastings is ugly. It smells. It is far from decent civilization, and I imagine some guests would rather just avoid the place altogether. I suppose it could be held away from the encampment, but then they can't expect many more guests outside of the military folk stationed here." He scratches his chin thoughtfully at Marcus's words. "It's possible, but I'm not sure why anyone outside of their own cabals would want to help them. They're a little isolated. I guess we'll just have to see." He shrugs his shoulders ruefully. "I ought to stop yapping about it, in any case." He frowns at Marcus. "So you're not going to go?"
"If we can speak their tongue, then they can speak ours," Artos notes, and then shrugs, "I do not see them going through such pains for a false wedding, it would be risking much and it would have leaked out, let alone causing some degree of confusion." He thinks, "but we shall see. I am sure we will find out tomorrow."
Marcus frowns still considering the idea of barbarian spies. "Hmm, don't know who would inform for them and I can't really see a barbarian fitting in here as a spy. Who would teach them how to eat with a fork, or use a chamber pot?" he muses lightly. "Anyhow, you're right, something best not discussed in the open." He nods to his uncle. "<True>" he says in the barbarian tongue. Then to Stellan he shakes his head. "It's not that I want to miss the ceremony and the party that follows, but, if I am well enough to ride to Murnord, then there is no reason for me not to answer my father's summons," he says biting his lip. "He's called for me to come home, apparently two close brushes with death were enough for him."
The squire furrows his brows. "Perhaps I might have deduced things incorrectly and you're right. I still… can't see it," he admits. His expression softens when Marcus explains his predictament. "Ah. That makes sense. You have had a rough time up here. Perhaps I ought to hope that the ceremony is held here, then."
"But we will see," Artos says and snorts at Marcus' snark. "Indeed, I can only imagine the heathens attempting to use a fork." He takes a sip and thinks and looks to Marcus, "I can understand that. If I did not have as many men here as I do, I would consider returning home, though at least your aunt is not demanding my return."
Marcus sets down his drink and looks at his companions with a forlorn expression. "I appreciate the understanding but the thing of it is I don't want to go back home. One help me I like it here. So, mad as it sounds I am in no hurry to get back."
Stellan looks surprised now. The notion that someone would actually prefer to be here, as opposed to anywhere else, boggles him. "That indeed sounds pretty mad," he confesses. "I mean, at the very least, don't you miss warm baths? Trying to do that here is pretty much impossible for longer than two minutes." His eyes flicker over to Artos again, somewhat curious about his opinion on Mastings.
"I can see why you feel that, Marcus," Artos says and sips. He then looks to Stellan, "You get used to not having a good bath every now and then when in the field. I am simply glad to have a camp and not to be in the healers' den. Though this does continue my lovely streak of getting badly wounded in a campaign!" He tries to smile at that.
"Well, yes," says the squire, to Artos, in reluctant agreement. "You two are usually in significantly better spirits when you're not bleeding. I suggest we discontinue that trend, if we can. Maybe let me take a blow or two for you," the squire jests. "I'll admit… I don't think not being like an al'Sylenthar is a bad thing."
"Eh, one incident is not a streak," Artos smiles to Marcus, "though I do understand your father's reasons." He takes another drink and turns to Stellan, "it does help when I am not bleeding, but I do miss my home and my books. Peace has certain values to it that are a bit enjoyable."
"Would be a good idea," Marcus says of Stellan taking a wound or two for Artos. "He is so much older than we are," he says with a slow grin despite his previous unhappiness. "And of course you wouldn't think it's a bad thing you're a northerner, though at the end of the day we do the same work, killing, though us al'Sylenthar just aren't as picky about our foe facing us or having a weapon in hand when we do them in."
"He is much older, but he is much wiser, as well! Hopefully," the d'Tremaine retorts to Marcus. "I suppose you have a point. I think the primary difference is we stab in the front." Not in the back. Finishing the remainder of his wine, the young man stands and releases a yawn. "I better head back to camp and get some rest for tomorrow. You two take care."
"I may be older than you both put together, but I am not /that/ old!" Artos snorts and rises, "Though I should also get some rest, festivities have a habit of sapping one's strength the furhter you go into them." He drains what remains of his wine.
"You're right," Marcus answers Stellan with at least an attempt at a wicked smile. One he doesn't quite manage. "Anyhow rest well and I'll see you tomorrow."