(1866-11-01) S&T&E Adventures: Ill Advice and Apologies
S&T&E Adventures: Ill Advice and Apologies
Summary: Thomas finds Shirlyn at an Inn in Kaedon, they get into an argument that Emrys breaks up.
Date: 1866-11-01
Related: Anything S&T, S&E or S&T&E related
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Shirlyn  Thomas  Emrys  

A Random Kaedon Inn
Booze, people, bar, and rooms upstairs. Also, the hallway in front of the rooms that overlooks the inn floor.
1866-11-01

The downstairs of an inn in Kaedon is full of merriment and drinking, the games now over, the ball had, some of the revelers have already left for Rikton and to ready for Carnival. Still, there are plenty of people one must navigate around to reach the stairs of the in and subsequently the rooms above, all of which are filled with the men of Shirlyn and Emrys. One such room has the door open and a lady standing against the rail watching the people below in their merriment, a flask finding its way to her lips now and again.

Baron Thomas Chandus of Repton March has never been a big fan of tournaments. Even when his own new squire competed in the Four Corners tournament, months ago, he could only be bothered to attend a handful of events. Grand visions of efficient administration and soldiers drilling have ever filled the man's head, even when he has been trying to decompress from all of that. Now, with this most unconventional contest of arms and wits over, the Baron makes his way into the Kaedon capital of Pinevale. He lacks fanfare and seems unconcerned by this. The soldiers he is at the head of, a strong platoon of mostly Sun Shields heavy infantry, are camped outside in the thankfully dry autumn chill.

Trotting into Pinevale atop stout ponies, now, with his two recently promoted shadows - Serjeant Lewis, his Serjeant at Arms, and Corporal Stewart, his Corporal at Arms, the trio dismount and enter the boisterous inn, rubbing their hands together. They are in riding armour, that is to say mottled green and brown brigandine, helmets, bracers and greaves removed. Thomas leans over to Serjeant Lewis as he enters, saying, "Make sure you two requisition food for the lads, either from here or from a commissary. We're all sleeping in the rough tonight, but they have the disadvantage of not coming in. And wine. That too." The gruff, flat faced veteran nods and says no words.

The blue-green eyes of the Charing lady look around the lower floor of the inn, smirking at this antic or that, watching the goings on has ever been a favorite pastime for Shirlyn. When her gaze lands on the armored men the lady grin. "Hey, Baron Chandus," Shirlyn waves from her spot above, "up here!" she shouts over the din. There's a wide grin set upon her features, Left and Right come to look out of their rooms at her shouting, seeing the baron they send a salute and wander back into their rooms.

Never one to overtly display too much emotion, the sight and sound of Shirlyn calling his name causes even Baron Repton March to crack a wide grin. "Ah, our friend is here, it seems. But where the squire, I wonder. Come, gents." The trio move through the crowd easily, pausing now patiently and again when drunken revellers dancing obstruct their path. Eventually, they make their way up the stairs and stand in front of the lady. "My lady Shirlyn. Salutations from the east." His grin reappears. "How do you do?"

"Salutations even!" She laughs, scratching at the new holsters at her back. "I was in the East myself for some time, then in the middle of the kingdom, then back in the East. So I guess I can say salutations from everywhere," Shirlyn smirks. "I do well enough, didn't show too well here, was hoping I would, honestly," she shrugs lightly, "it is of no consequence. About to leave with Emrys to Rikton soon enough. What of you, Thomas?"

"If you mean Snakewood to be the East, you are greatly mistaken!" Thomas chuckles, availing himself of a seat without asking and pulling his gloves off. Lewis and Stewart, after bowing from the neck to Shirlyn, split off to go worry about the food and drink for the men outside the gates. "I've just come from delivering to our mutual friend the Baron Tenebrae the soldiers I've detached to him. Other than that… administration. Setting the Barony for the hard winter ahead. We've got food, but we'll be stretching to feed everybody. Re-jigging the defences on the border. With the detachment of troops to Emrys, I've had to suspend work on the Narrows… that's the road connecting my old fief, Scales, with Aspendon, formerly Malkess. But, all is good. I've actually come to collect my squire and proceed to Rikton myself. I promised I'd perform pilgrimage and this the ideal time. I'd like to travel with you both, if you don't mind."

"Tenebrae, you lout. That's the east, unless I'm mistaken and have been traveling East instead of West to get here from there?" Shirlyn laughs and nods to Lewis and Steward, taking a seat near the rail herself. "That shouldn't be an issue, I don't think. You should ask Emrys though. He's so strange, sending me missives about spending more time when I'm about to go on a long trip with him."

She shakes her head and gestures to the new blades at her back. "Bought me these, I told him it wasn't necessary I would've helped without any payment." She scratches her brow as if confused and moves on. "As for me? My Exchange House in Firen is coming along nicely, the vault is complete and the walls are going up. Should be finished within a few months."

"Aha! So you did make it out there instead of lounging about in the Charing manse, drinking whiskey and breaking furniture?" Thomas, evidently, is feeling wicked tonight. The smirk and glimmer in his eyes only confirm that fact. "Outstanding. And with that, another piece in the wall. The war in the north drags on, I'm told." He sighs. "Well, at least the Arkanin can afford it more than us. It's not like they've been touched by either of the last wars. I am no believer in the justice of them reaping the reward of war, not hardly, and not especially when Sir Xavier cut troops to us in Windholme, but in some ways… they will be able to feed themselves."

"Now now, I think it was more stabbing furniture, Thomas," Shirlyn chuckles. "Yes, I made it to Tenebrae, nice lands, Emrys is quite lucky." There is a heavy sight that escapes the Charing woman. "Indeed it is, until the peace talks are concluded I'm not sure if it will stop. Haven't heard much word besides the fact that Rogers was under siege and then taken." Wicked, it would seem, is a game two can play, she sips at her flask again while she nods at Thomas' last. "Indeed, they can, though I'm sure they're a bit worse off than they should be. They'll survive, the people will not starve, that's all that can be hoped for at this moment."

"Well, I know that Venantius marched out the Raging Bull Company, in force. In fact, he took the Leonor and Hellena, splitting off before Tenebrae lands and marching the rest on foot. I've heard naught but rumours since then. My opinion, though?" Thomas runs a hand over his roughly stubbled face. "Sir Xavier should launch on Rogers. Damn the hostages. It's a fact of war that if that Aequorian scum is willing to execute noble hostages, then he is willing to do anything. It would show the enemy the steel of the Arkanins and open them up to counter invasion, or at least to the destruction of some of their forces." He shrugs.

"Venantius may not get there before his services are rendered useless," Shirlyn smirks, "I did go visit my family before meeting Emrys in Tellese Town, don't be surprised if you hear word of Rogers soon rumors are a bit slow getting this way, especially with the peace talks underway. I'm quite sure they'd try to suppress anything for as long as they can," Shirlyn leaves it at that, vague as usual, though this time she's got a big enough smirk. She hides her smirk behind her flask, though more comically than any true attempt to hide it. "Though, I don't think invading them would be the answer right now, given the balance that's being kept with these talks which have been going on for far too long, in my opinion, I hope that's a good sign."

"I don't know how fast his men marched, or can march. By the mark of my man at court in Riverrend, though," He's referring to the Reine capital of County Windholme, "they left in mid September. Did you not hear a month ago, too, that they arrived in Eastern Wayston? Anyways, no moves yet as I've heard." He is ignorant of whatever Shirlyn is hinting towards, as is usual. "No, perhaps not invading. But badly beating their army would be. It would send the message that Galenthia is not to be invaded lightly."

"Perhaps, but they have not taken much part in it. No doubt they're being held in reserve. I can tell you Rogers shouldn't be a known problem for very long," Shirlyn rolls her eyes, "my goodness sometimes you must be lead by hand to conclusions." Though his last gets the Charing lady to grin. "Though, it wasn't truly Galenthia that was invaded, just Wayston. Had it been Galenthia as a whole? Well, d'Armaz would've been no more than a bloodstain by now."

"A border war between two entities is, in the hearts of many soldiers, a contest between Aequor and Galenthia. Even if we have no wish to see a disastrous general war that, I hate to say we would likely lose from our position of weakness, fighting between Arkanin and d'Armaz affects the prestige of both kingdoms. Bragging rights affect morale, Shirlyn. The troops see it as Aequor versus Galenthia. We nobles know better, but our forces are not nobles." Thomas squints after delivering his miniature lecture. "Firstly - what are you blathering about? What do you know? And secondly, do you have anything to drink?"

Shirlyn says, "It would also seem that neither of the Queens of north and south give a fig about bragging rights, they care only that this doesn't turn to a war they did not command to happen." Shirlyn is firm about this fact, as if it should be obvious to everyone besides herself. "You all put way too much stock in the outcomes of death and destruction. The troops be damned, Thomas, you think of moral while I think of winter. Screw the moral and screw this damn feud, because that's what it is. A bull shit feud put on by a man who tried to blackmail a duchy, when that duchy was all too willing to give them the life of their scion to make it right. As they should have done. It'd disgusting to me that someone would be allowed to do this, it's gone on for far too long. It is not a game to be bet on, to base your life on!"

It would seem this way of thinking of some of the more military minded is a something that now angers Shirlyn, and the furrow in her brow suggests that she's going to go mum on the matter for the rest of the conversation. "Rogers is handled, that is all I'm going to say on it." She tosses Thomas a flask of Whiskey without saying a word, her mood clearly sour.

"I agree about that; it should not be allowed to degenerate further. But I also think that Arkanin needs a good solid victory to seal this up. It's important for their morale as it is for everyone else's." He snorts at Shirlyn. "These two things aren't mutually exclusive, Shirlyn, and I am not arguing one for the other. Anyways. Thank you." Thomas picks up the flask and pours himself a drink, neat. "Let us talk of lighter things. How did the tourney go here?"

"And that is what I have a problem with, there is no argument, it's bull shit and it needs to stop," Shirlyn glares at Thomas. "You," she breaths heavily, "sometimes, Thomas, you need to stop and think for just a moment. My fucking family lives there, they're fighting when they didn't have to. I don't think they care about anything other than ending it. They don't even care who is seen to win, so long as their people don't starve, and dealing with others that are choosing not to fight. Did you even… you know what. Never mind." She sighs. "The tourney was a tourney I did not win because of a cheating northerner."

Whatever mirth Thomas might have brought with him when he arrived has now been drained out. He takes a sip from the laquered wooden cup, made from a local Snakewood oak tree, no doubt. "Please, save your pontifications as if I had not also just recently been locked in combat to the death on my own lands. I very much understand. If they are not dealt a strong blow, they will come again. That is the point that I was trying to make. Do you think these disgusting pseudo merchant Viscounts, who murder nobles in their own keeps and then threaten to kill noble hostages are going to simply stop forever because of a peace treaty? No, Shirlyn, they will not. They will rebuild their forces and try again during some other time of opportunity. If they are dealt a strong defeat, they may think twice."

"Then maybe you should think that perhaps, as someone on the outside who very much chose to stay out of it is quite fearful for her own family who is locked into it. I visited them recently, there is no sort of moral boost that will come from a win, I assure you. They're tried, they just want it to end, they don't even care how, so spare me you're righteous tongue, Thomas. I don't care to hear it. Do I think that d'Armaz needs a right kick to the arse? Yes. Do I think it would make any difference either way to a man such as Adriono d'Armaz? Fuck no. So think about that for a moment while you preach."

Shirlyn doesn't quite shout, but if the redness that is spreading from her neck up to her cheeks is any indications she is quite angry as she spits her next words through gritted teeth. "He's political in nature, sent his son to deal with the martial part. He'd see this as a minor hiccup either way. The only way that man can be stopped is if he's dead. If he wants to hurt us, he won't send another fucking army, he'll send assassins. Don't be naive, Thomas, or I'll start to think my time is wasted on you. Have you learned nothing from me?" The last is followed by a look of hurt as she turns her eyes away from Thomas and looks to the revelers below in the inn.

Thomas remains silent as Shirlyn speaks sharply at him, sipping from the cup with eyebrows knit deeply inward; a common look, judging from the deeply wrought lines set above his nose where the eyebrows rest. "I would ask you the same." He finally answers at her last question. "Because I understand your feelings on this and I disagree with your conclusion; yet, it is fruitless to continue and I am quitting this argument." His lips press down in a line and he stares at Shirlyn in contrast to her looking off. He really doesn't understand.

At that moment trumping up on the walkway is another pair of boots, though given the commotion upstairs and down it is likely that it aided in the newcomer's relative silence and nimbleness. A cup in his hand he stares down at it, after coming upon the two people he was meaning to join some time ago. Apparently the queue at the bar is extremely long, even for a noble of Emrys' standing. A swig and he's raising a brow before swishing around the contents in his cup before shaking his head. "I don't care for the tar like color of the local vintage." he states upon coming into the storm, absolutely oblivious. "It's as if they wish to cater to whatever nightmare people have heard about them. Bloody black wine."

"I think you've stuck yourself into the martial mind and have not seen the game that is being played. I've learned enough from you, I assure you, though you, "she sighs, "as per usual, aren't quite listening to me. That's fine, you don't need to, you'll see yourself in time. Adriono isn't going to spend coin on a fight like this again, not if he loses. He'll get what he wants another way."

Her eyes stay on the ground floor of the inn, the flask in her hand is gripped tightly. "Is confrontation something that scares you, Thomas? My family means everything to me and some prick of a man is threatening to take all away from them, don't try to tell me the state of my homeland, or the moral of the men I've seen with mine own to eyes in the thousands."

Perhaps that's another clue as to what she was doing in Wayston, but she lets that die there, silence reigning over the conversation that is until Emrys breaks it and makes Shirlyn chuckle. "My, do you know when to make a timely entrance, Emrys." She doesn't quite look to the Baron Tenebrae, just looks at him sidelong, clearly trying to cool her hot temper, at least the color is receding from her neck leaving her cheeks a bright rosy hue.

Thomas swings his gaze over to Emrys, not in anger, but as if to offer a silent warning that stormy waters are ahead. He looks back at the Charing, saying, "If confrontation was something that scared me, Shirlyn, I would not be who I was. Nor am I not listening to you. Trust me; I understand better than most the situation you are in, but this conversation is not worth our friendship and it can be broached at another time." He rises from his seat finally in order to great Emrys with an extended arm, though no smile rests on his face. "Baron Tenebrae. The people here are pagans, and unreserved ones at that; do you expect any less? Ah, but I come bearing good news for you and your Barony."

Eyebrows come up, to Shirlyn's lack of looking at him-as he had gotten used to his companion and then back to Thomas as it seems he has indeed popped up at the most opportune time. "Ah." is all Emrys has to offer the conversation at the present before he is looking into his cup. "Much like a priest in a whorehouse.." he knows where the entrance is. Another sip of his wine before he is turning to greet Thomas with a shake as he tries to read the other man. "Oh I understand that-the lovely carved trees, I doubt were the works of children at play." a swallow of the brackish wine and now the Baron tries to steer the conversation away from whatever rocks it was about to hit. "Oh?"

"Only you can walk away from that," Shirlyn says quietly, "I do not let anger dictate my life, but I do not hide it either. You choose if you wish to be friends with me, I will not stop you if you choose to walk out of my life, it is not in my nature to kick and scream and throw fits. Know once you've done it, you can never walk back in. Much like this conversation, I would ask that you not broach the subject ever again, for when I'm done with it, I'm done. I don't like to look to the past too much." She turns to cant a brow at Emrys and shrug as if to say she doesn't know what Thomas has, though his jest gains a snort from the lady. "I actually find Viscountess Sonya to be quite pleasant," she adds before taking a drink.

Thomas snaps his head back to Shirlyn, brows knit more fiercely. "I said I was finished with the conversation. If it need be forever, then so be it, Shirlyn! I will not sacrifice an important friendship over a differing of opinions on this, so I choose not to engage on it anymore." That he's tense is obvious when he looks back to Emrys. He doesn't comment on the Viscountess, but instead says, "I accompanied Sir Travis Martine with the fifty spears and fifty archers to your lands. They are in the care of Lord Beldrav until you choose to dispose of them how you see fit. Sir Travis is an excellent soldier, formerly sworn to the Malkess. He fought against us in Scales, Emyrs, but withdrew without blood from Circester after negotiations and is a long standing friend of the family. He'll serve you well."

"They bathe together." Emrys adds as an aside to Thomas, as if to explain the pleasantness that Shirlyn finds with the all and out Pagan. And so, he offers his cup over towards Shirlyn, in case she wished to taste the local wine for some reason or another. Sharing is not above the Blackrood-or is it Black Lion now? "I've not had much to complain about here, really." Emrys says towards Thomas. "I find it's easier to pray naked to the night than say at home." all reported deadpan, so who knows if Emrys is japing or not.

"I am going to suggest, my friends-that whatever the seriousness of this conversation be. That we table it for a time in which both of you can talk about it together. The hotter you both seem to get, the more likely more hurt will be done than for good. And I would hate it if you both don't talk to one another-as you are both the only good friends I have. I'd hate to have parties and the such you nobles enjoy and not have you both there."

To the news about the Malkess men showing there is a brief smile there, before he is nodding. "Good. I will use him for my House hold professional soldiers- as that will be easier than trying to train some-but we will be working on that. I am lucky in that I have a well trained militia-and I've plans for our trained levies. But that is probably where I need the most work. The Fitzroys left the professional military in shambles."

Shirlyn blinks. "Don't snap at me, I did not shout at you, after all. I was simply stating my terms, if you don't like that, Thomas, then you can walk yourself out of my life at any time you wish. Do not take my honesty as anything but what it is, honest. I am not some frivolous girl that wishes to play mind games with you to make you feel bad about what you said. You believe what you do, I believe what I do, it is that simple. I have seen the girls do this, it's rather debasing. Do we not make our own choices in the end?"

There is no bite in her tone, indeed, it has quite switched to her usual one when she's giving information, even the color has left her face. "Too may people flit about haphazardly and give no one any options to control their lives or thoughts. I was simply informing you of your choices as pertains to me, and consequences of such, you don't have to like it, but you did have to hear it." Shirlyn waves her hand in Thomas' direction to dimiss a part of his bite. "Forever, tomorrow, ten minutes from now, never. All is relative to me for I may not live to see the morrow. I've told you, it's dead, gone. I don't dwell on this stuff. You seem to be the only one wishing to carry on with this temper of yours."

Shirlyn sniffs and turns away again to eye a few people at the bar, almost as if she was on lookout, though to most who know her know this is normal for her. "Oh Emrys, dear, it was table about five minutes ago, it would seem it's frustrations that are being vented now." Shirlyn eyes Thomas clinically, as if studying his face and posture. "I think it's quite over now, though. Right? Oh hardly, Emrys, I'm not going to stop talking to someone simply because they upset me, that's childish, and petty."

It takes a great deal of restraint for Thomas not to lunge out, likely with his words rather than physically. He doesn't appear to be taking well to the way the conversations is going. Perhaps as a man who is ever lecturing others on matters he's familiar with, he does not take well to being so told in turn. Never the less, the Baron of Repton March remains silent, though his jaw does clench tight. Once she asks him if the issue has subsided, he grunts a strained, "Aye." He's normally phlegmatic. Now, he appears anything but. Turning to his fellow peer to talk about the troops comes almost as a relief to him, an excuse to not address the Arkanin issue any further. "I hope you'll be able to use them well. We're fortunate that we can lean on our militia and you, much more than any of us, on your levies, but the backbone must be those whose profession it is. Use them well and know that, should any matter arise, the Chandus are ever your friends."

A glance is given Shirlyn, as a faint smirk manages to show itself. "For the sake of the table, both of you quit pounding on it then. Or me. I feel aloof in these tempests of words." And there Emrys blinks almost surprised at himself for his lyrical genius there, and quickly looks between both Baron and Lady Charing, and quickly tries to scowl back into the conversation at hand. "Shirlyn has been helping me in Tenebrae. And I have come to value her-" and he stops before waving off words with a drink. "-Aye well. And know that I am ever your friend Thomas. Should Chandus need anything, the Lions will come roaring. Dear One what is this?" he asks not of the wine, but likely his pontificating.

Shirlyn pays Thomas' internal struggle little mind, she knows why he's acting the way he does, she just eyes Emrys instead and sends him a shrug and a grin. "I do like the sound it makes, Emrys. Oh! The Baron Chandus here was asking if he could accompany us to Rikton. Says he wants to go on a pilgrimage, I told him to ask you as I'm just a companion in your trope." There's a slight lift of her brow as he speaks about her. "My thanks?" Shirlyn says of the half cut off sentence. "Surely I am not that great a steward, but I guess I'm better than none. Lord Beldrav was quite the fascinating character." Shirlyn smiles.

"Indeed. I've come to collect my squire and go to Rikton. I've never been and I've promised to. She could use a tad bit more religion in her before I have her annointed, I think, though I judge she's ready or almost there." Thomas pretends to forget about the argument. With both of the others being close friends, though, they will be able to notice without much of an issue that he's not doing a good job of hiding his feelings.

"I've never been, but I have never been one for churches. I've heard it said everyone should go sometime in their life. I know Gauvain went when he was younger with our father." And there he shrugs, before looking over to Thomas, clearing his throat before he is rubbing at it with his off hand. "I am for it. I like Thomas well enough, and he doesn't smell nigh as bad in the saddle as others." Of course though it means the Reine will be coming which gets a small chuckle. "And here I thought her cousin was a pious man." said with an obvious air of sarcasm.

Shirlyn, for her part, rolls her eyes at Thomas' clear inability to not let this go. "However, if you're going to ride like that, I'd prefer not to. I don't think I could handle someone staring daggers into my back for miles upon miles, Thomas." She lifts a brow and gives him a look that says 'cut the shit and get over it already.' "Are you saying I smell, Emrys? How very rude!" She snorts cocking a grin.

"I promise that it will not be so. My incomprehension of this matter will fade as the night into day." Thomas pulls his gloves back onto his hands and, looking from one to the other says, "Serjeant Lewis and Corporal Stewart are undoubtedly done with the provisioningof food and wine. I go back to sleep with my men outside the gates. I doubt her Excellency would be keen on a band of soldiers, even friendly ones, in her city without an invitation and I owe it to them to share the tent. One keep you both and we will speak tomorrow." Before going, he turns to Shirlyn and says, "I am sorry." With a dip of his head, he's back down the stairs.

A messenger arrives for Lady Shirlyn and once he unburdens himself and weaves his way back down the stairs of the inn and out into the night, she looks at the words written there and laughs. "Oh surely it wasn't needed, I will admit I was quite upset at the melee, but I did not wish for him to be disqualified from the entire tourney." She opens the wrappings on the bottle and laughs. "Well, he did not lie there," the bottle reads absinthe. " Beast," she shouts, the little curr dog comes flouncing out of her rooms, a big bone in his mouth, she leans over and gives the dog a sip from the bottle. When he doesn't keel over she giggles and sits back. "Well, isn't that spectacular."

Thomas is given a glance and her brow raises, though she doesn't say anything back just nods as he goes to leave, everyone that knows her well knows that it is an acceptance of such an apology, at least she didn't bite back instead she looks at Emrys and smirks. "Absinthe, how wonderful of Lord Vittore to send it to me. As it would seem he sends along his apologies as well as commends me on my fighting. I will have to write him back to assure him that his forgiveness has been gained."

"Absinthe? is that not made with poison?" says the looming Baron who is now very close and trying to catch a look at the letter and the bottle. Though he does raise a glance back to Thomas, and a brief wave as he leaves before sighing. "Oh don't lead that man on. Next he will send you something else poisoned to see how you accept that." a jest really, though he is scowling for a moment. "How is your neck, darling?" he asks before he is moving to take a seat and drink up the rest of his wine.

"Well. Forgiveness is ever good."

"Indeed it is, though it is not a threat," she hands him the crystal bottle and the missive. It reads:

Lady Shirlyn Charing

It is my understanding that you seem to be of the opinion that I cheated against you in the melee. Those accusations got me disqualified from the competition but I cannot find it in myself to be angry. You win some and you lose some, but I felt compelled to let you know that I did not cheat. It was not my intention to hit you in the head or the neck in that fight, and I realize that the mistake did you a discourtesy, for that I will apologize.

I do not offer apologies lightly my lady as there are few things in my life that I regret. I do regret that my blade missed its mark and that you took my words to mean that I did so intentionally. What I said was true, I would fight hard and perhaps a bit dirty to win but I did not intentionally break the rules. I meant no true harm or disrespect towards you.

I hope that in time you can forgive me and that perhaps one day I might convince you to spar with me again. It was a true pleasure to face someone so talented with daggers as yourself and I throughly enjoyed facing you. Enclosed I have offered a peace offering of sorts, a drink made in the barony I hail from, absinthe. Drink with care and only when you will have a full morning to recover from its affects. Its much stronger than whisky, wine, or brandy. I am leaving for Four Corners today and by the time you get this I will likely already have left. Still I will likely be present in Four Corners a while before I leave for Rikton, if you wish to offer a reply I would welcome it.

Yours respectfully,

Lord Vittore D'Cauthone.

"Now Emrys, isn't that nice of him?" Shirlyn's hand goes up to her neck, a nasty bruise lies underneath a rather well placed bandage. "My neck? It's well, healing. Forgiveness is always good. I tend to just forget it ever happened if it wasn't serious enough, though sometimes people need words." Shirlyn shrugs and tosses her chin to her rooms. "There's a few glasses in there and a desk with two chairs. I think we should go, sit in there, and drink a bit. Because I surely could use it." Shirlyn rises and drags Emrys and Beast along with her. "Left, Right! You two too! Get in here and bring a cup!" With that, and her two guards trailing behind, the door is closed softly.

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