| Good lord, Galenthians |
| Summary: | Galenthians arrive via ship in Lyoniesse. |
| Date: | 1868-02-02 |
| Related: | The recent troubles in Lyoniesse. |
| NPCs: | {$npc} |
| Players: |
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| First the docks and then a nice and cosy inn |
| {$roomdesc} |
| 1868-02-02 |
It is a quiet, frigid day in the northern city of Lyionesse, white snow blanketing the ground which had so recently been churned red by the blood of soldiers from all sides. People seem to be going about their business, now, as things return to normal in the city. That is, of course, before the sight of five Galenthian four masted Santis and five three masted Demas sailing ships begin to show on the horizon. It's too small of a fleet for an invasion, even for that of a weakened city… but for a raid? Maybe. As they approach in a defensive formation, the larger Santis in the centre surrounded by the nimbler Demas, the sight of the standard of the Royal Galenthian Navy is visible.
—
There are a few ways of getting a D'Armaz out of bed in a hurry. A D'Geroux could drop a snake into the blankets and run, or there could be a klaxon bell from the dockmaster's tower overlooking the bay of Lyionesse, signaling a threat encroaching on the city.
Myrana D'Armaz was having a rather unsettling dream, and waking up to the latter sound has her vaulting up out of her warm bed and scrambling half-blind for something to swing. An instant later, Samuel (her bodyguard, and cousin-by-marriage) bursts into the room with the news.
Which is how she ends up downstairs and out of the luxurious dockside Inn in a gauzy nightshirt and a still unfastened padded-coat, slipping in the snow as she charges out to meet with the dockmaster and the officer of the small unit of Thornesmen that she retained after the attack on the capitol's defenses. Her white hair is in a flurry down her back and she's gripping Ardaigh in its belts-and-sheathe in her hand. The little bell pendant she wears jingles sharply as she very nearly slips on a patch of ice, and shoves someone out of the way on her way to the dockside.
There are almost no ships. Only a few left in the capitol's dock, as the majority of them are out with the rest of her House engaging White Hall's forces.
"D- GOD'S BREATH!" she blurts at the sight of the Galenthian ships encroaching on the docks, flying the royal navy's colours. "FUCKING— NOW?!!!" She stutters, and runs out of appropriate swears very early. Still barefoot and only dressed in the loosest sense of the word, she charges out to the docks, joined by her two bodyguards. "Send for the Cavaliers! Fucking damnit!"
—
Though Havelock remains clad in his Reliant livery, not to mention the somewhat battered plate beneath, the blue cavaliers cloak that he was gifted remains wrapped about his shoulders to ward off the chill and also, well, it remains a tempting offer. What with a Church in schism. Corruption. The usual. Given the sight of a few Galenthian vessels this far north is an odd sight indeed, the presently one-eyed Havelock moves through various gawpers, idlers, and various worried folk who no doubt expect the worst, "Come now brothers, sisters, calm yourselves. Make your way to your homes, the Church, or the Inn, but do so calmly!"
Though there's clearly some measure of commotion amongst the officials upon the docks, spy-glasses raised and much murmuring. A warm voice, not to mention a combination of blue cloak and Reliant livery most likely goes some way to keeping the more hot-headed sorts calm, and so it is one Blue Cavalier in the form of Sir Havelock Synn, who at least arrives beside the rather gauzy Myrana, instinctively sweeping his cloak clear and wrapping it about her shoulders as a matter of course, "Baroness."
—
Myrana slaps distemperedly (and with too-short arms) at Havelock when her tries to swaddle her up in a too big cloak. "I have a coat!" She hasn't fastened it up, and in a minute her skin is going to fall off and she will be the Incredible Ghoul Woman of Aequor. "Why are there Galenthians here?! Was there a missive?"
—
The vessels stop in mid harbour, followed by the dropping of a small launch into the frigid waters. The launch, which has a partially covered deck, a small latteen sail and several oars, quickly makes its way towards the docks. It's not hard - the wind is blowing strongly in from the ocean. As it moves across the water, a small, white flag is raised up beside the naval jack of Galenthia.
Aboard the launch, Baron Thomas Chandus stands, draped heavily in furs with a brigandine cuirass and greaves under, helmet tucked at his side. A small knot of soldiers sit, waiting to make land. They look focused, but remain quiet. For that matter, so does he.
—
One fresh face in the crowd stands out, a head taller than most, with a mane of silver-white hair and a deathly pallor despite a youthful and robustly muscular build. A fresh recruit from Four Corners, Altair arches a brow as he walks into town, hearing the bells toll, adding some speed and purpose to his step as he seeks out the quartermaster he was supposed to contact. Instead he finds Myrana, the woman who hired him in the first place, and makes a line for her. He's still garbed in the armor of a decently paid but nonetheless meager armor of an independent mercenary, lowering his head to Myrana as he approaches. "Baroness," he greets, mimicking Havelock for safety's sake, who also garners a firm nod. Rather than asking about orders, he decides it best to wait.
—
"Then I would suggest fastening it, it is a trifle chilly and should my fellow Galenthians attack, it wouldn't do to be caught half dressed. Speaking as a Doctor. Healer. Reliant. One might catch a chill." Havelock offers in the tone of one who has at some point been caught half-dressed, while the air is buffetted near his bandaged features, a solitary unhidden brow lightly arched as he replies, "As to a missive, I couldn't say." The much too large cloak is withdrawn and swung back about his shoulders, "Although I've not considered myself Galenthian for a good many years, if that's any solace." Altair's arrival is met with a respectful nod from Havelock, "I'm not familiar with naval tactics, yourself?" He asks of Altair, "I've had my fill of the sea personally."
—
With the Baron is a much shorter much more delicate figure. Belladona Ulsen is clad in a practical but finely made dark red wool gown with white flower embroidery along its sleeves and skirt. White laces hold the gown closed in the back and the front is modest and square cut. A white cloak lined in rich dark brown mink furs is also worn and lightly catches in the breeze. In her hands is a small satchel likely containing medical and alchemy related supple. She stands next to Thomas quietly trying to imitate his composure and calm but her excitement is seeping through into her expression. "I've never been here before." She admits quietly to Thomas eyeing the city the are sailing towards with open curiousity.
—
"Neither have I. This makes me nervous. I see the Royal standard flying, but… let us hope that, by God, they're the side we want. I suppose it matters little. Whoever has won, we are here to represent Her Majesty, but I argued for preserving the status quo and the current royal family." Thomas sort of trails off, running a hand through his thick, blond hair. "I don't see either of our sloops in harbour here. They knew our path… then why did they not come back?"
—
The launch has made its way through the harbour and is around a hundred yards from the dock. Bowshot range. They don't fire.
—
Someone with a spyglass shouts that they've run up a parley flag, and Myrana growls under Havelock's avalanche of sense and folds up her long padded coat of heavy black wool, worked at the shoulders and sleeves with applique'd green figures of cats in the elongated, knotting Arrani style. "Ravio, tell the Thornsmen on the rooftops to hold." It covers her completely, but its still pretty darn clear that she got out of bed in a hurry, as her hair is unbraided and wild down her back and she hasn't got so much as an earring on. She belts her cutlass on and catches up with herself a little, cheeks burning.
"Samuel could you go get me some boots from upstairs?"
Her bodyguard nods, and goes to do that.
"Good morning, everyone," she says after a long moment. Remembering politeness WAY LATE. She nods in greeting to Altair with significant embarrassment, and then mutters an apology up at Havelock as Samuel brings down a pair of boots, which she steps gingerly into to save her bare feet from the snow. "I'm very eager to learn what the hell this is about." GRUMPY.
—
There's a faint smile that flits across Havelock's lips as Myrana is supplied with boots, while yielding to his advice regarding fastening the coat, though he doesn't say anything in regard to his little victory, "Should be interesting. At least if we expect the worst, after the last few days, we'll hardly be all that surprised." Shifting to a more martial stance, the bandaged Reliant rests his hand upon the sidhe steel sword at his hip and eyes the approaching launch.
—
Altair hears of the white flag the same as everyone else does, looking towards the direction of the shout for a moment before returning his attention to Havelock and Myrana. It is Havelock he addresses first with a shake of his head. "I fear that I would be of no use in terms of naval war tactics, My Lord. My experience has all been on the land." He then looks to Myrana and nods once. "Your orders, your Grace?" he asks, waiting to be given purpose.
—
"If the fighting is over there is little we can do to change who won, we must simply hope for the best and make due with what we have been given." Belladona replies calmly to Thomas. "But I am with you in that I hope the current Royal Family prevailed." She peers accross the waters at the docks scanning the area. "They are not there. Not that I can see. Is it possible they were lost or did not make it? What could have prevented them though. Perhaps you are right to be nervous." She furrows her brows and watches in silence for a moment now.
—
The boat pulls up alongside the docks, slowing considerably as it does so by some sea magick, or perhaps more realistically the able hand of experienced sailors. Experienced they may be, but the men casting rope onto the dock in order to tie off look rather miserable - theirs is a southern kingdom, and even when they range far away, they don't often do it in such cold climes.
The man who steps forward to climb off the ship first, on the other hand, looks quite comfortable in the cold. He seems ready to jump from ship to dock but, thinking better (the ice!), he gingerly steps down, at the same time as around a dozen troops of various kind, though all wearing mute coloured brigandine armour. Thomas steps forward, slowly, a shield slung on his back and his weapons sheathed. A thin, red haired young man standing next to him hafts the white flag of parley on a short staff. They move towards the Aequorians.
—
Myrana rubs the sleep out of her eyes quickly with the back of a hand and tries to comb her bangs back from her face with a rake of her fingers. Unharmed in the taking of the castle, she takes a deep breath to center herself before looking at Altair and the little handful of D'Armaz guardsmen and dock guards who've assembled in such a rush. "Lets see what they want," she says. "Something may have happened to their missive, if they sent one, and if not we can expect them at least to behave civilly." Which, to an Aequoran, may sound like rather some bullshit, but she speaks with cool authority now that she's had a few seconds to shake herself fully awake. "Remain on guard."
Then she turns around, and stepping forward goes to meet the Galenthians halfway.
"What are you doing here?" She asks, bluntly. She doesn't recognize Thomas and Belladona at first, for she's still bristling despite all her encouragement of peace, and the affront of an unexpected arrival of Galenthians at the Lyionesse docks is a very serious matter. And even half dressed and mussed, Myrana D'Armaz is confident to the point of arrogance when riled up.
—
Havelock follows after Myrana, a curious mix of Reliant and Blue Cavalier attire on display, not to mention the bloodied bandage that obscures one eye and half his head. Polearms hurt. Muchly. A simple nod is offered the Galenthian contingent, and his hand finally slips free of his blade to leave it untouched and both hands gently and reverently clasped before him, "May I introduce Baroness d'Arran." The odd Blue Cavalier offers by way of greeting, "Welcome to Lyionesse." Though he doesn't rate himself highly enough in the social pecking order to name himself.
—
If Havelock doesn't rate very highly on the social pecking order, where do you think that leaves Altair?? He nods to Myrana's desire to find out what they want and falls in with the rest of the guard contingent. Unfortunately, he sticks out like a sore thumb, looming the way he most often does and decidedly out of any sort of uniform, but that can't be helped at this point. He just marches along, otherwise looking rather intimidating in and of himself.
—
Belladona steps forward onto the docks and approches the Aequorians with a calm expression. She curtsies politely to Myrana and once she straightens back up she attempts to soothe the woman. "Well met, I am Lady Belladona Ulsen. We come here with renforcements to help those in Lyionesse. Baron Chandus petitioned the Queen and she was in agreement that we should send aid as a gesture of goodwill. A message bearing news of our arrival was sent but appears to not have made it. I am sorry that we have startled you so, that was not the intent." The Ulsen lady despite being only the spare child to a Baroness carries herself with poise and grace, speaking calmly and diplomatically to Myrana in hopes of soothing her ire.
—
Thomas stops at a respectful distance, particularly given that he is on foreign territory. Suspicious engendered by lack of the two Galenthian in the Lyionesse harbour comes to fruition at Myrana's question. He holds out his gloved hands, palms up, perhaps to show that they are empty. This is a theatrical gesture of course, for the man wears a sword on his hip and is surrounded by a dozen soldiers, but still, it is a gesture. "Baroness Myrana? A congratulations are due, I suppose." Despite the curt response she gave him, he appears somewhat relieved that it is her present. "I am Baron Thomas Chandus, as Lady Belladona says… we met and fought together at Rikton, Baroness. I am here as an envoy of her Majesty, Queen Melisande of Galenthia. An envoy of friendship. We sent messages ahead of us, two sloops which were to scout and, if the harbour appeared friendly, deliver a message of our impending arrival. I do not see them in the harbour, my lady." He bows slightly to her. A nod is given to Havelock. Altair, though, is given a rather wary glance. He is very tall, you see… in an effort to be polite, Thomas's watery blue eyes snap back to Myrana.
—
"A-ah." Myrana D'Armaz looks very hard at the faces of Belladona and Thomas as they speak, and the hard bristle-set of her shoulders and back eases slowly, cautiously. "Ah- I see. No… I am very sorry, but if they arrived, it was before we took the capitol back from the traitors to their Majesties." Finally, she relaxes, and with softer eyes looks back at Altair and the other small number of guards with an expression that says that the danger has passed. To Altair, she mouths: 'Have them stand down', which is clearly meant for the Armaz Thornesmen up on the rooftops with their long cannons, and which Altair is in a good position with his height and where he stands, to motion to.
When she turns around again, its with a slight, harried smile. "Baron Chandus, its good to see you. And you as well, Lady Ulsen. We have not yet shrugged the notion that an attack may come on Lyionesse while her navy is at sea engaging the Whitehall Raiders. Please be welcome in Lyionesse."
Smoothing down the front of her coat, she clears her throat in some embarrassment. "And thank you. Why don't we, er, go inside," she says, gesturing to the very fine Inn she's made her home for the time she's in Lyionesse, as being in the Castle proper felt quite odd and oppressive after the death of Jean Paul a few days prior.
"I'm sure that a measure of breakfast would not go amiss by anyone," she adds. And she can go get a proper dress on. Ye gods.
—
"A warm hearth and a good breakfast often goes a long way to peace." Havelock offers as he steps to one side and turns, offering the Galenthian contingent a bow as he makes ready to follow alongside them, "Something to ward off the cold, you get used to it you know, after a couple of years you barely notice the deadening of your extremities."
—
There is anarrowing of eyes by the monochromatic warrior at Myrana a moment, an expression of confusion, before her gesture towards the rooftops cues Altair in. Eminently familiar with most battle signals, he turns towards the said rooftops and gives the 'stand down' signal, causing said long cannons to discontinue their aim on the newly arrived Galenthians. Returning his gaze to said Galenthians, Thomas himself earns an arched brow from the looming mercenary as he prepares to move with Myrana. Apparently he's become a part of her entourage, at least for the time being.
—
"Cold is good for you," says the short little Armaz, stoutly. "Makes your blood strong."
—
Thomas looks rather embarassed by the failure of diplomacy on his part - even if the vanished ships may not have been his fault. But what, indeed, happened to them? "I am sorry to have so caused you alarm, my lady. I know what being under attack is like… my own fief was conquered by rebellious scum several years ago, during the latest Succession War. Please, let us." The troops behind visibly relax as the situation de-escalates. Turning to Belladona, he says in a low voice, "Let us parlay with them here. The ships are safe and at anchor. They can wait until we're done."
—
Havelock gestures towards the inn and takes point as he heads off towards the warm hearth and the prospect of a good meal, and upon reaching the inn, the Reliant turns to hold open the door for both parties. A simple little act, but a polite one nevertheless.
—
Inside the first floor of the Mermaid's Pearls, the common room is warm and lovely and the smell of baking bread hits one quite abruptly in the face. Plates of fresh, crackling golden croissants and sliced hothouse fruits are brought out, along with rashers of hot bacon, cups of strong kaffe and pots of thick cream and honey. It is a very fine sort of establishment, with tall windows and plenty of glass lamps hanging from the clean cieling beams.
Myrana returns after a short time properly dressed in a cashmeri kirtle of deep black with fashionable slits of white silk visible at the sleeves, hair brushed and braided. Most of Lyionesse is still in mourning black for Jean Paul.
"I am sorry for the way we greeted you," she says. "But now that I understand what must have happened, I'm sure their majesties will welcome you and your ships. In the meanwhile, I can resupply them from my father's stores here at the docks while we wait for the royal permissions to come ashore."
—
"By the way, let me introduce my friends:" Myrana gestures to Havelock and Altair and with a particularly Four Corners' sort of sensibility, introduces them to the two Galenthians, though this might not be strictly polite in some noble circles. "This is Master Altair of Four Corners, and Reliant Sir Havelock Synn." She settles her hand atop the back of one of the inn's carved chairs and smiles, much more relaxed now. "Baron Chandus, I am glad to see that you escaped Rikton alive."
—
The wave of heat from the inn, the bounty of food and the fine surroundings seem to put Thomas at ease. The troops behind him relax even further, smiles on their face for the first time this morning. "Of course, my lady, it is understandable… we did not know what was happening here, precisely. We knew that there was a rebellion of sorts and that your monarchs were embattled, so we pushed for troops to help and… well, here we are. Well met, Sir Havelock. Master Altair." He nods at both - more respectfully at the knight, of course. "This is Lady Belladona Ulsen, as she has introduced, of course. As for Rikton… I was wounded near the new year, but I recovered well enough."
—
Having settled himself, Havelock lifts a cup of steaming kaffe by way of greeting as he is named, "Heretic, apostate and murderer of bishops… though Lyoniesse might well be free, I fear that unless we hear otherwise, Rikton remains somewhat under the sway of whatever we faced here. I am no more a heretic than I am a murderer, I assure you." A nod soon follows and a sip of kaffe silences the Reliant, for a moment at least, "A pleasure, Baron Chandus, Lady Belladona."
—
Not really knowing where to stand once inside, as Myrana points him out by name, he lowers his head to Belladona and Thomas respectfully. While not a vampire, he's still got the intimidation factor, and decides maybe the best way to use it is to bolster Myrana's intimidation factor. It is for that reason that he takes up position off behind Myrana's shoulder, looming there just enough, that anyone would be able to tell that he's her 'muscle.'
—
Myrana sits down and helps herself to a generous serving of heavy cream and honey into her kaffe and eats half a croissant. The guards that came ashore are served as well; Myra throws money around fairly easily in this case. Or maybe the innkeep works for her father; that is very likely. Myra doesn't often stay in places that are not run by Syndicatos loyal to Adriono. "It was an ugly business there," she says, and giving Thomas a hard look considers something, dancing the bit of croissant between the tips of the fingers of her right hand. "… I believe Cardinal Teleko is still in Four Corners. He was at one time pushing the Council to sieze Prince Jean-Paul to be tried for witchcraft. A thing we objected to most fiercely…" The croissant turns, and a bit of crumb falls to the plate beside her steaming cup. Taking a breath, she sets it down. "The Prince has passed."
—
Thomas wags a finger at Havelock, a look of recognition dawning on his face. "I knew I remebered you. From Rikton. We were riding down to see if we could rustle a ship in Rikton, and its sailors, when you burst out of an alleyway. Armoured, of course. Fighting a… thing." The Baron unlimbers himself from fur cloaks, a shield, gloves and greaves, handing them off in turn to the thin red headed soldier next to him. "Corporal Stewart, please find a place for those, and then find a place for you and the troops. You're under Serjeant Lewis until we call for the ships." He rubs his hands together to warm them, sits at the table and eats, and drinks kaffe. He even inquires if they've got some liquor for the kaffe and for the men, in order to warm everyone's bodies and spirits.
"This is a rather fetching place, Baroness. Thank you for the hospitality." Thomas does not need to fake a look of surprise at the mention of Prince Jean-Paul's death. He evidently had not even known that the Prince was alive, judging by the expression he now wears. "I am deeply sorry, my lady. The Kingdom must be in mourning. Though I did not know his Highness, know that Galenthia too mourns for a great man." He clears his throat. "As I said, we are here to assist you. We in Galenthia know the evil and sorrow that civil strife can bring all too well. No realm, least of all The Kingdom of Aequor, our brethren to the north, deserves to be subject to widespread rebellion. And so we are here."
—
"Ah yes, I recall that… entrance." Havelock states, dipping his head lightly while one hand idly adjusts the bandage that keeps his one eye concealed, "The start of all things, the Sealing of Rikton… at least nothing has gone right since. The Church has faltered and split, the Reliants were forced to flee Rikton, our hands are laden with the blood of Templars who refused… no… who could not lay down their arms as we sought to escape capture and death. But yes, there is still much to do and two Kingdoms joined together in an Alliance could achieve great things." The Reliant offers as he sips his kaffe, but not before chomping down a couple of rashers of prime bacon. A moment or two as the bacon is savoured and Havelock looks to those at the table, "And if I recall, it was a bolt fired from the Kentairish household that aided the problems in Rikton."
—
Altair remains steadfast and stalwart behind Myrana, the mercenary taking a more soldiered, sentinel's stance behind she who has at least temporarily become his charge. His eyes alert, he keeps his eyes on the folks at the table and the rest of the room, otherwise silent and uninterruptive as the nobility and their associates discuss the past, the present and the future.
—
Envoys of the Rose Queen sent to help the al'Ramar in their direst hour… that is not a thing to be sneezed at. And it is not expected. Myrana drinks her kaffe and struggles to keep her thoughts from her face. Now that she's got proper clothes and shoes and so on, and her hair is not a wild mess, she's able to at least attempt to be the diplomat that her Queen expects. At least Ramius is not here at the moment, she reflects, taking a piece of bacon and some pear slices; there would be a great deal more grain alcohol flowing in the name of friendship. Her head is already pounding from poor sleep and a startled awakening.
To distract herself a moment, she glances up over her shoulder at the looming Altair. A smile tugs furtively at the corner of her lips. "Will you have some kaffe, dragon?" she asks sotto voice as Havelock is speaking. Oh yes. She checked up on him. Its not said threateningly, but with a sort of amusement; its a pretty scary byname, after all.
—
"Fortunately, my brother Sir Charles escaped your blades, Sir Havelock!" Thomas seems positively cheery about that, though decidedly less so about the split. "I would argue that the schism is the worst thing that has ever happened to the Church, sir. Perhaps, here, we can ensure that even if the Holy Mother Church is split, the two prime kingdoms of the West are not." Chandus does not comment on the Kentairish dimension of the schism. He quirks an eyebrow at Altair, evidently quite intrigued by his presence. Probably because he's seven feet tall and quite frightening looking.
—
"I am pleased your brother escaped the carnage of the Unsealing." Havelock offers with a certain relief, the bloody rout of the Reliants was not the greatest chapter in the history of the Church for either side, "I shall pray that the Church is united as one, with two kingdoms aiding eachother, whatever evil lurks in Rikton shall surely flee our most holy of cities."
—
The pale warrior blinks a moment at the question from Myrana, tilting his head a bit to the side. "I … think I would like that, Your Grace. Thank you," is his reply, before he looks somewhat more uncertainly at the table and the nearby servants. Not certain where the kaffe should come from and certainly not presumptive that he might sit at the same table with such distingushed parties. He does double-take Myrana as she uses that nickname, one he's not heard in a bit, his expression actually warming a touch with it. "Thank you, Your Grace," he says in reply to its use, before glancing at Thomas for a moment. Yes, they do call him the Dragon for a reason.
—
It is just possible that the Armaz takes a certain amount of evil pleasure from upsetting unspoken social rules. Four Corners was not a good place to raise a noble. But her House came up from the merchant class thanks to her father's ruthlessness and loyalty to the Crown, so maybe its hereditary. "I'm glad any of us were able to get out of Rikton," she states, solidly. "I don't fancy I'll ever return." Self-consciously, she tugs at her white plait and pours a cup of kaffe and sets it within easy reach of Altair so he doesn't have to sit if he doesn't want to, and then pours herself another as well. "Perhaps his worship Cardinal Teleko will return there now that his highness has passed and he can no longer quest after that slanderous trial. If its the back of him, I'll be glad to see it." Oh she's getting riled up. There's a prickle down her back and she tosses her head, eyes burning. "If there were a way to keep him out of my city I would."
Myrana says, "…I mean, the city."
Myrana sips her kaffe and tries to settle down.
—
"As am I. As am I. My brother and I only saw each other twice during the Sealing, and I've not seen him since, but we've written. Not an enviable spot. God be good that the Church is united indeed, Sir Havelock, and I shall continue to pray that the Great Enemy be struck down by the One and his saints. Aye. I'd thought he was organising the city defences when we were there, but now I am unsure as to what he was doing." Running a hand through his hair, Thomas asks, "If I may be so bold, my lady, presumably you are empowered as an envoy for their Majesties of Aequor? If so, may I know what situation is afoot now?"
—
Altair accepts the cup with gratitude, not sitting down at the table and remining standing instead. He's just not one to sit unless explicitly invited to do so. Aftre taking a sip, and listening to the talk of teh church, he actually opens his mouth to say something. Maybe just slightly late, but… "The Church is made up of human beings. Despite being inbued with the Divine of the One, they are like us, all just human beings, prone to error and fallacy. One must keep that in the back of their minds." Maybe he's had some experience in that area…
—
"Quite so," Myrana eases a little in her seat. For a moment, she considers, and laces her fingers together more delicately around the small cup before responding to Thomas' question. "…Yes. D'Kemp, as I'm sure you know, was behind the attempted coup. Sir Havelock and I saw him wield unnatural forces in the Audience Chamber of the grand palace." She eyes the bacon, but then seems to decide against it, shuddering slightly. "We were able to overcome him, but his House has their Banners still raised. I am charged to go and request that they stand down so that the Queen may offer forgiveness."
—
"D'Kemp, yes, that is what we had heard. Her Majesty assumed many more houses, too, though we had not heard of any supernatural forces. I wonder if it was they who made off with my two sloops." Comments Thomas rather dryly, continuing without so much as missing a beat. "Are there, then, any others? A single Barony rebelled against the Crown? Madness… utter madness. Even the Thorn had armies upon armies. And what kind of supernatural do you speak of, my lady?" Shaking his head, Thomas leans back against his seat. "Whatever the case, the Kingdom of Galenthia is offering the entirety of its Royal Order of the Burnished Spurs, and I have some of my own regiment with me, as well. Five hundred soldiers in total. Again, I reiterate that we wish to aid you in preventing the chaos and evil that occured in Galenthia in our own war."
—
Myrana smiles wrily. Baron Chandus has no real reason to know the true depth of how weakened the crown has been by not one but two successive wars, the second of which is still going on out off of the shores of Aequor with Whitehall. Now is the perfect time, the ripe time, for rebellion. D'Arran is recovering still from the war with Icenalia, of which it bore the brunt alongside Benide to the east of Lyionesse, and D'Armaz is totally engaged at sea. That leaves much of the military strength drained. There's al'Callenta, of course; their cavalry would be a force to be reckoned with; but what have they been doing? She chews the slice of bright green pear slowly and savoringly. What a good question. Was it in al'Callenta lands that the incursion of soldiers from Vir Sidus came upon a caravan of nobles headed to Gendiel last year? But she doesn't interrupt Havelock, looking at him to describe what he saw in the Audience chamber.
—
Altair remains silent now as the discussion turns to things of which he knows not, listening and learning while remaining sentinel with a cup of kaffe. He remains alert as he takes a sip, the warrior seemingly the type that is always on duty when he has a duty to perform.
—
"Indeed, he wielded the very elements… struck Lord d'Rana with flame and sought to impale me with ice. It was not natural." Havelock offers by way of interruption, nodding his head lightly as he both consumes bacon and kaffe in delightfully heart-palpatating quantities, "Baron d'Arran ended the threat, piercing the man through the heart… or stone… either way he ended it. But the powers, they should not be wielded by mortal man."
—
"This… sounds troublingly like the evil we encountered in Rikton." Thomas motions to Myrana. Specifically, her head. "I had hoped that the breaking of the Seal would have killed that, but, it was not to be." The Baron nods solemnly at Havelock. "Aye. And thanks be to God for that." Belatedly, he says to Altair, "You are correct, Master Altair. But as mankind, we must perfect ourselves. The Church must be our beacon light, even if it is made of up sinful men, for all are sinful in the eyes of the One, and must be purified. If the Church itself is asunder… and evil walk this Tirth, well…"
—
Myrana flushes, and buries her face behind a lusty drink of kaffe. With as much honey as she likes in the brew, she's probably going to be very very awake late into the night. "He's referring to the, er, creature that attacked me," she says to Altair, to fill him in. "I think I mentioned it to you." In a very 'OH SHIT ITS A VAMPIRE' reactive way when she first met him.
—
"But yes, I agree." She puts the cup down. "We mustn't lose faith in God- contrariwise, we must be stronger in it, and face evil without comprimise."
—
Altair looks to Myrana, shaking his head slowly in reply. "I have not lost my faith in The One, Your Grace. Far from it. I only say that, as all men are given to temptation, none are perfect, from the leaders of the Church to the beggar on the street corner." He then looks to Thomas and nods once. "Question all and put your faith in those that have proven themselves true. Even that is not a perfect solution, but it is faith with eyes opened as opposed to faith blind. I was raised inside the Church as an orphan until such time that my stature and my youthful rebellion caused the deacons to question my very nature on this mortal soil. It is by The One's Grace that I was merely expelled from orphanage as opposed to far worse."
—
"May we then land and anchor our ships here, my lady Myrana? Our sailors, while excellent, are not used to sailing in waters such as these, and it would go far in being able to repair, reprovision and base out of the port, at least for now. We can figure out more details and I can restrict my soldiers to this area until we do, if you prefer." Thomas suggests, reaching over the table to pour another cup of kaffe. "This is delicious." He nods at Altair. "As you say, men can be mistaken, men can be foolish. It was surely not the One's will that you were cast out, Master Altair, but the One's, rather, that you are here now, to assist in this."
—
Myrana nods silently as she considers this, then looks at Thomas when he asks permission to dock his ships. "I will go and let her majesty know your intentions," she says, and rises from her seat, plucking a whole pear from the table as she does so. "Talk to the Harbormaster and let him know I've given you permission to use the thirteenth pier." Smiling, she turns and gestures in parting. "I'm sure I'll see you soon, your grace."
—
Altair lowers his head in agreement with Thomas, perhaps just the slightest hint of a smile at his words. He says nothing more however as Myrana stands, the warrior taking a last sip of his kaffe before setting it aside on the table and preparing to move with his charge.
—