For Her Hand
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PieTaster
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2006
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Titan lifted his snout from the slough with a blustery snort. The stallion was a good war steed. Azurmont was known throughout the kingdom for its cavalry and horse breeding, particularly their unique practice of never gelding their steeds yet still maintaining their discipline. Prince Rhys led Titan back up through the rushes to the dirt road where Sir Terrell awaited him.
"As fine a day it is," Terrell began, "I think we've had enough for a morning's ride."
Rhys hadn't been out in the countryside in some time. The thought of his skills growing rusty bothered him, not that he felt that a ride in simple leathers would be enough to keep him battle sharp. He placed his boot firmly into Titan's stirrup and took mount.
"I suppose," the Prince sighed. "But I really think I should take up a patrol soon."
"You know that it is frowned upon for the heir to the Sceptre to put himself in unnecessary danger," Terrell noted.
"I know that when real danger shows itself, I need be ready to heed the call of battle," Rhys countered. At the age of twenty-four he was already a weary veteran of war - nearly a year's worth in the War of Palran in the far northern mountains of the Kingdom. In the three years hence, the Great Kingdom of Galland knew peace, but rumblings and unrest in the Koudrean Empire to the south foreshadowed troubled times ahead. Diplomacy was faltering and chaos flickered in the border marches.
"Surely, you have considerations more pleasant," Terrell lightened the mood. "What with your fiancée arriving this afternoon for the week's festivities."
"I am delighted, it is true," replied the Prince. The words were affirmative but the expression was not. The Lady Lenore, the fair love of the people, his love, she was the joy that made his heart sing, but what life could they have if the province were to fall or the Kingdom be not defended?
A sound carried on the spring breeze, barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. Rhys perked up. He heard it again, three blasts of a fanfare in the distance, a distress.
"Lutton," Terrell nodded in the direction of the village out of sight beyond the glen, all joviality dispersed.
"Kiyagh!" Rhys spurred Titan into an urgent gallop and the hooves of the horses kicked up loamy divits as the two knights answered the call.
Once into the shade of the glen, the road bent to the left and over a gentle knoll. He knew it well but kept his eyes wary around the bend. The trees canopied the road above. A jack rabbit scurried across in front of them but the horses did not break stride. The road broadened and exited the cover of the glen and the sunlight gleamed off the tack and buckles as the riders crossed the lea towards the collection of huts that was Lutton.
Rhys and Terrell pulled up before the well in the village square and the steeds brayed loudly announcing their presence. The village was seemingly deserted except for a single knight's horse lashed to the stable post.
"Over here!" a voice called out from the open doorway of the smithy. "I've got one!" he grunted as he dragged his rope-coiled captive into the open. The two knights trotted over to assist. Rhys dismounted and handed his reins to Terrell.
"Sir Branson," Rhys recognized his fellow horseman. "What happened?"
"We come up the hill 'ere an' there's all this shouting and commotion. These twenty bandits are in 'ere raidin' the silver from the smithy," Branson recounted. "A trite sooner an' we'd have stuffed it cold, but as it is, they made of with a good profit. Blake an' the rest o' the boys gave chase. I got this one though."
Raids were becoming all too common in the bordrelands of the marches ever since the death of the Emperor Ramos IV without heir last fall. The Koudrean Empire was losing it's authority under its provisional senate and young puppet regent Khadir. Still, Lutton was too close to home. Rhys eyed the the dusty, unshaven rogue. The coal black hair and bronzed skin was definitely from a more southern clime. The man was far from home. He took a fistful of the bandit's collar and dragged him roughly to his feet.
"Where is your camp," he interrogated boldly. When no answer came forth, he shook him and demanded again, this time with vehemence. "Come on! Where is it?"
"Uh, no compreho."
"I know you can understand me!" the Prince bellowed. Disgusted he threw the foreigner to the ground and placed his boot on his chest. Taking a moment to calm himself, he inhaled while he adjusted his gloves.
"The dirt is soft in the spring," he started over, peering down into the rogue's dark eyes. "Don't think I cannot follow hoofprints. I will find your comrades nonetheless. Should you feel the need to reduce your penance, I offer you the opportunity to aid me."
The bandit struggled in his binds. Perhaps their camp moved from night to night. Rhys pressed his foot forward onto his throat.
Just then the sound of hooves approached. Terrell handed Rhys his reins back and Branson resumed custody of his prisoner. Rhys climbed onto his stallion.
"It's Blake," Terrell regarded. Seven Provincial horsemen thundered into the square, fellow members of the First Cavalry, the scales of their armors clacking upon themselves and glinting in the midday sun.
"Ho there!" called Sir Blake and they pulled up before them. The horses brayed and settled. "Now then M'Lord what brings you here? 'Tis not proper for Your Highness to be placed at risk on such duty." Blake took note of Rhys and Terrell's lack of armor, or even helmets. "Why you're not even in full dress."
"Where'd they get to?" Rhys asked, dismissing Blake's concerns.
"We followed them to Grieve's Fork. There they split. A couple of them scattered into the forest," Blake explained. "By the time we got out the other end, they had crossed the brook and up the hill away. One of them took a maiden along for fun. We left Gabe and Victor to track them and returned for help."
"Sir Branson can fetch help from Garrison Teague," Rhys decided. "The rest of us, let's go."
"Aye, M'Lord."
/\/\/\/
The road split at Grieve's Fork. Both paths wandered into the dense forest that covered Houghton's Hill. The southern path emerged a mile-and-a-half downstream from the northern. They took the south fork and climbed the slope, ducking under boughs and stepping over roots. Back into the sunlight on the other side of the hill, they arrived at Fairbriar Brook as it babbled cacophonously with runoff. The horsemen halted to survey the situation.
"Gabe and Victor followed them up the ridge," Blake pointed out. Rhys led them across the stream and up the hill. At the crest, Gabe and Victor's mounts stood behind a line of poplar. They approached with caution and Rhys and Blake dismounted. Gabe and Victor stood below them, about fifty yards down the footpath where they had chosen a vantage point over the wooded valley.
"They're down there somewhere," said Victor as Rhys and Blake joined them. The valley below was carpeted with thick conifer.
"M'Lord," Gabe was taken aback by the Prince's presence.
"They took themselves a maiden," Rhys remarked.
"Indeed so," Gabe confirmed.
"Then they'll camp here tonight and use her," said Rhys with a scowl. "We'll have to find them before dark."
"It would be easy if they start a fire," Blake supposed.
"They won't start one before nightfall," said Victor, "else we spot the smoke."
"And after dark, the forest hides the flame," added Rhys. Resting his boot on the rock before them, he surveyed the maze of teeming green. The Prince knew the land as well as anyone as he had ridden through it more times than could be recalled. "There's three good spots to pitch a camp that size down there," he noted.
"And only one of those has water for the horses," Terrell added.
"Angel's Pool," Rhys confirmed as her extended his arm to point out it's vicinity on the steeper north slope of the valley. At the top of the plateau stood the old pile of stone that was once a monastery. "Which way did they go?" the Prince asked.
"Down there," Gabe pointed to the right where the ridge curved and tailed downward. The grass was trampled down the slope towards the dense wood.
"Right then, you two track them just in case we're wrong," he instructed Gabe and Victor. "If you find them, come fetch the rest of us at Angel's Pool."
"Aye, M'Lord."
"And you will miss the arrival of the Lady Lenore," remarked Terrell. "Perhaps you could still make time for the evening's torchlight dance?"
"The torchlight dance can wait," the Prince stated. "The maiden can't"
"As fine a day it is," Terrell began, "I think we've had enough for a morning's ride."
Rhys hadn't been out in the countryside in some time. The thought of his skills growing rusty bothered him, not that he felt that a ride in simple leathers would be enough to keep him battle sharp. He placed his boot firmly into Titan's stirrup and took mount.
"I suppose," the Prince sighed. "But I really think I should take up a patrol soon."
"You know that it is frowned upon for the heir to the Sceptre to put himself in unnecessary danger," Terrell noted.
"I know that when real danger shows itself, I need be ready to heed the call of battle," Rhys countered. At the age of twenty-four he was already a weary veteran of war - nearly a year's worth in the War of Palran in the far northern mountains of the Kingdom. In the three years hence, the Great Kingdom of Galland knew peace, but rumblings and unrest in the Koudrean Empire to the south foreshadowed troubled times ahead. Diplomacy was faltering and chaos flickered in the border marches.
"Surely, you have considerations more pleasant," Terrell lightened the mood. "What with your fiancée arriving this afternoon for the week's festivities."
"I am delighted, it is true," replied the Prince. The words were affirmative but the expression was not. The Lady Lenore, the fair love of the people, his love, she was the joy that made his heart sing, but what life could they have if the province were to fall or the Kingdom be not defended?
A sound carried on the spring breeze, barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. Rhys perked up. He heard it again, three blasts of a fanfare in the distance, a distress.
"Lutton," Terrell nodded in the direction of the village out of sight beyond the glen, all joviality dispersed.
"Kiyagh!" Rhys spurred Titan into an urgent gallop and the hooves of the horses kicked up loamy divits as the two knights answered the call.
Once into the shade of the glen, the road bent to the left and over a gentle knoll. He knew it well but kept his eyes wary around the bend. The trees canopied the road above. A jack rabbit scurried across in front of them but the horses did not break stride. The road broadened and exited the cover of the glen and the sunlight gleamed off the tack and buckles as the riders crossed the lea towards the collection of huts that was Lutton.
Rhys and Terrell pulled up before the well in the village square and the steeds brayed loudly announcing their presence. The village was seemingly deserted except for a single knight's horse lashed to the stable post.
"Over here!" a voice called out from the open doorway of the smithy. "I've got one!" he grunted as he dragged his rope-coiled captive into the open. The two knights trotted over to assist. Rhys dismounted and handed his reins to Terrell.
"Sir Branson," Rhys recognized his fellow horseman. "What happened?"
"We come up the hill 'ere an' there's all this shouting and commotion. These twenty bandits are in 'ere raidin' the silver from the smithy," Branson recounted. "A trite sooner an' we'd have stuffed it cold, but as it is, they made of with a good profit. Blake an' the rest o' the boys gave chase. I got this one though."
Raids were becoming all too common in the bordrelands of the marches ever since the death of the Emperor Ramos IV without heir last fall. The Koudrean Empire was losing it's authority under its provisional senate and young puppet regent Khadir. Still, Lutton was too close to home. Rhys eyed the the dusty, unshaven rogue. The coal black hair and bronzed skin was definitely from a more southern clime. The man was far from home. He took a fistful of the bandit's collar and dragged him roughly to his feet.
"Where is your camp," he interrogated boldly. When no answer came forth, he shook him and demanded again, this time with vehemence. "Come on! Where is it?"
"Uh, no compreho."
"I know you can understand me!" the Prince bellowed. Disgusted he threw the foreigner to the ground and placed his boot on his chest. Taking a moment to calm himself, he inhaled while he adjusted his gloves.
"The dirt is soft in the spring," he started over, peering down into the rogue's dark eyes. "Don't think I cannot follow hoofprints. I will find your comrades nonetheless. Should you feel the need to reduce your penance, I offer you the opportunity to aid me."
The bandit struggled in his binds. Perhaps their camp moved from night to night. Rhys pressed his foot forward onto his throat.
Just then the sound of hooves approached. Terrell handed Rhys his reins back and Branson resumed custody of his prisoner. Rhys climbed onto his stallion.
"It's Blake," Terrell regarded. Seven Provincial horsemen thundered into the square, fellow members of the First Cavalry, the scales of their armors clacking upon themselves and glinting in the midday sun.
"Ho there!" called Sir Blake and they pulled up before them. The horses brayed and settled. "Now then M'Lord what brings you here? 'Tis not proper for Your Highness to be placed at risk on such duty." Blake took note of Rhys and Terrell's lack of armor, or even helmets. "Why you're not even in full dress."
"Where'd they get to?" Rhys asked, dismissing Blake's concerns.
"We followed them to Grieve's Fork. There they split. A couple of them scattered into the forest," Blake explained. "By the time we got out the other end, they had crossed the brook and up the hill away. One of them took a maiden along for fun. We left Gabe and Victor to track them and returned for help."
"Sir Branson can fetch help from Garrison Teague," Rhys decided. "The rest of us, let's go."
"Aye, M'Lord."
/\/\/\/
The road split at Grieve's Fork. Both paths wandered into the dense forest that covered Houghton's Hill. The southern path emerged a mile-and-a-half downstream from the northern. They took the south fork and climbed the slope, ducking under boughs and stepping over roots. Back into the sunlight on the other side of the hill, they arrived at Fairbriar Brook as it babbled cacophonously with runoff. The horsemen halted to survey the situation.
"Gabe and Victor followed them up the ridge," Blake pointed out. Rhys led them across the stream and up the hill. At the crest, Gabe and Victor's mounts stood behind a line of poplar. They approached with caution and Rhys and Blake dismounted. Gabe and Victor stood below them, about fifty yards down the footpath where they had chosen a vantage point over the wooded valley.
"They're down there somewhere," said Victor as Rhys and Blake joined them. The valley below was carpeted with thick conifer.
"M'Lord," Gabe was taken aback by the Prince's presence.
"They took themselves a maiden," Rhys remarked.
"Indeed so," Gabe confirmed.
"Then they'll camp here tonight and use her," said Rhys with a scowl. "We'll have to find them before dark."
"It would be easy if they start a fire," Blake supposed.
"They won't start one before nightfall," said Victor, "else we spot the smoke."
"And after dark, the forest hides the flame," added Rhys. Resting his boot on the rock before them, he surveyed the maze of teeming green. The Prince knew the land as well as anyone as he had ridden through it more times than could be recalled. "There's three good spots to pitch a camp that size down there," he noted.
"And only one of those has water for the horses," Terrell added.
"Angel's Pool," Rhys confirmed as her extended his arm to point out it's vicinity on the steeper north slope of the valley. At the top of the plateau stood the old pile of stone that was once a monastery. "Which way did they go?" the Prince asked.
"Down there," Gabe pointed to the right where the ridge curved and tailed downward. The grass was trampled down the slope towards the dense wood.
"Right then, you two track them just in case we're wrong," he instructed Gabe and Victor. "If you find them, come fetch the rest of us at Angel's Pool."
"Aye, M'Lord."
"And you will miss the arrival of the Lady Lenore," remarked Terrell. "Perhaps you could still make time for the evening's torchlight dance?"
"The torchlight dance can wait," the Prince stated. "The maiden can't"
SilkenSanctuary
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2007
- Posts
- 441
At the crest of each hill, the mountains could be seen standing guard on the horizon. As they dipped again, they disappeared but Lenore knew that they would be that much closer each time. The journey was thankfully, not terribly long. She drew back the curtain covering the window and looked up into the sky. The sun shone brightly and she held her hand at her brow to shield the glare.
Sunny days were miracles, in Lenore's eyes. The entire world smiled on a sunny day. She looked across the plains of her home province and saw the bounty of an entire kingdom. Vast seas of green sprouts pleased her eye and she knew that with the help of the sun, they would grow tall and strong, dancing fluidly with the wind that teased them as it raced past. Lenore could see the bonnet clad heads of people working the fields, tending the crops to ensure their survival. An arched back straightened and a smiling face came into view, smiling widely as a hand waved towards the coach. She raised her hand in response as the coach trundled past.
Accompanying the sun on it's journey across the sky were a handful of clouds, stretched like cotton and floating leisurely through the atmosphere. Lenore closed her eyes and for a moment, indulged in a small fantasy where she sat perched atop one such cloud, her intended sitting happily beside her as they dined on a luncheon of capon, sweet breads and cheese.
It was this man, her fiance, that sparked this journey from her province into his own. The time before their marriage was growing short and soon, they would be announced as husband and wife. This idea brought yet another smile to the Lady's lips and she glanced out the back window towards the trunk of items that was lashed to the rear of the coach. Her gown lay inside, as well as provincial gifts from her father.
Finally, she turned her attentions back to the lively discussion being held before her. She had brought three of her handmaids with her. Here they sat laughing and speculating on just what lay in store once they arrived at the Azurmont castle. They were stitching what were to be Lenore's new initials into handkerchiefs as they spoke and Lenore reached to take one up as well.
"Ladies," she addressed them with what was all but officially the voice of compassion in the province. Lenore had developed a reputation as the one to turn the ear of when an injustice occurred. She was fiercely passionate about her people and spent almost weekly conferences with her father pleading various cases. With his approval, she had even managed to pull together a small support service for the residents of Havalle province - A sort of trade station where one in need but lacking funds, could find necessary resources in exchange for their own available goods or services. She'd instructed her cousin in just how to manage and maintain the trade house once she was married and living away from Havalle.
"Perhaps we should ask for a short reprieve from the knocking around of this coach? We will cross the Noldin River soon and it would make a fine location for lunch." The ladies nodded their agreement and one reached through the small window facing the front of the coach to tap the arm of one of the men sitting up front.
Finally they came to a stop at the far side of the riverbank. The driver hopped from the box to open the door but before he could reach, it burst open and the ladies came chattering out, winking into the sunlight. Lenore retrieved a bottle of Havellian wine and some cups from the foot and headed down towards the edge of the bubbling water.
"Come now, the day is warm and calls for something to soothe the throat." She beckoned her traveling companions to join her and the ladies quickly followed, the driver, footman and guard all declining, bowing and explaining that while on duty, they'd promised her father to drink nothing stronger than water.
Lenore smiled at them, took a seat upon a blanket the ladies had lay on the bankmand watched the men. They wandered about, scouting the area and conversing with one another. They were good men and she was happy to have them along for her travels. The guard was, in fact, a cousin. As children they'd play in the wheat fields and tumble down hillsides. She would miss having him around when she married. She made a mental note to ask Rhys the details of just how often she could return for a visit. Family was always important.
"...light dance? My Lady?"
Lenore turned her head back to her friends and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I was thinking for a moment. What was it you asked of me?"
"Are you looking forward to tonight's torchlight dance at the castle? We cannot wait. Denise has never been to a function outside of the province before." A motion was made towards the youngest of Lenore's handmaids, a small girl of 17.
"Well, you will meet many young men who will want nothing more than to fall over themselves and each other to simply have the honor of introducing themselves." Lenore let a wide grin spread across her face and she winked at her ladies. "You will all enjoy it very much, I expect."
"And you? You will enjoy it as well. How can you not? You are about to be married to Prince Rhys!" Denise gushed and then quickly covered her mouth, slightly embarrassed for forgetting her place. Lenore laughed and patted her leg.
"Don't worry, Denise. You are right. I will enjoy it, I have been looking forward to this time of my life for all of my twenty one years. I am the happiest woman in the Kingdom of Galland." She let the mirth show in her eyes before the women stood, collected the cups and refolded the blanket.
"We'd best be on our way, then. I'm sure we would all appreciate the chance to settle in and freshen up before we must present ourselves, and that will not happen if we arrive after nightfall." Lenore turned and waved to the men, who stood near a copse of trees just downwind. Soon, they were all in their seats and the coach rumbled to life, pulling Lenore further away from home, yet bringing her closer to the start of a new life.
Sunny days were miracles, in Lenore's eyes. The entire world smiled on a sunny day. She looked across the plains of her home province and saw the bounty of an entire kingdom. Vast seas of green sprouts pleased her eye and she knew that with the help of the sun, they would grow tall and strong, dancing fluidly with the wind that teased them as it raced past. Lenore could see the bonnet clad heads of people working the fields, tending the crops to ensure their survival. An arched back straightened and a smiling face came into view, smiling widely as a hand waved towards the coach. She raised her hand in response as the coach trundled past.
Accompanying the sun on it's journey across the sky were a handful of clouds, stretched like cotton and floating leisurely through the atmosphere. Lenore closed her eyes and for a moment, indulged in a small fantasy where she sat perched atop one such cloud, her intended sitting happily beside her as they dined on a luncheon of capon, sweet breads and cheese.
It was this man, her fiance, that sparked this journey from her province into his own. The time before their marriage was growing short and soon, they would be announced as husband and wife. This idea brought yet another smile to the Lady's lips and she glanced out the back window towards the trunk of items that was lashed to the rear of the coach. Her gown lay inside, as well as provincial gifts from her father.
Finally, she turned her attentions back to the lively discussion being held before her. She had brought three of her handmaids with her. Here they sat laughing and speculating on just what lay in store once they arrived at the Azurmont castle. They were stitching what were to be Lenore's new initials into handkerchiefs as they spoke and Lenore reached to take one up as well.
"Ladies," she addressed them with what was all but officially the voice of compassion in the province. Lenore had developed a reputation as the one to turn the ear of when an injustice occurred. She was fiercely passionate about her people and spent almost weekly conferences with her father pleading various cases. With his approval, she had even managed to pull together a small support service for the residents of Havalle province - A sort of trade station where one in need but lacking funds, could find necessary resources in exchange for their own available goods or services. She'd instructed her cousin in just how to manage and maintain the trade house once she was married and living away from Havalle.
"Perhaps we should ask for a short reprieve from the knocking around of this coach? We will cross the Noldin River soon and it would make a fine location for lunch." The ladies nodded their agreement and one reached through the small window facing the front of the coach to tap the arm of one of the men sitting up front.
Finally they came to a stop at the far side of the riverbank. The driver hopped from the box to open the door but before he could reach, it burst open and the ladies came chattering out, winking into the sunlight. Lenore retrieved a bottle of Havellian wine and some cups from the foot and headed down towards the edge of the bubbling water.
"Come now, the day is warm and calls for something to soothe the throat." She beckoned her traveling companions to join her and the ladies quickly followed, the driver, footman and guard all declining, bowing and explaining that while on duty, they'd promised her father to drink nothing stronger than water.
Lenore smiled at them, took a seat upon a blanket the ladies had lay on the bankmand watched the men. They wandered about, scouting the area and conversing with one another. They were good men and she was happy to have them along for her travels. The guard was, in fact, a cousin. As children they'd play in the wheat fields and tumble down hillsides. She would miss having him around when she married. She made a mental note to ask Rhys the details of just how often she could return for a visit. Family was always important.
"...light dance? My Lady?"
Lenore turned her head back to her friends and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I was thinking for a moment. What was it you asked of me?"
"Are you looking forward to tonight's torchlight dance at the castle? We cannot wait. Denise has never been to a function outside of the province before." A motion was made towards the youngest of Lenore's handmaids, a small girl of 17.
"Well, you will meet many young men who will want nothing more than to fall over themselves and each other to simply have the honor of introducing themselves." Lenore let a wide grin spread across her face and she winked at her ladies. "You will all enjoy it very much, I expect."
"And you? You will enjoy it as well. How can you not? You are about to be married to Prince Rhys!" Denise gushed and then quickly covered her mouth, slightly embarrassed for forgetting her place. Lenore laughed and patted her leg.
"Don't worry, Denise. You are right. I will enjoy it, I have been looking forward to this time of my life for all of my twenty one years. I am the happiest woman in the Kingdom of Galland." She let the mirth show in her eyes before the women stood, collected the cups and refolded the blanket.
"We'd best be on our way, then. I'm sure we would all appreciate the chance to settle in and freshen up before we must present ourselves, and that will not happen if we arrive after nightfall." Lenore turned and waved to the men, who stood near a copse of trees just downwind. Soon, they were all in their seats and the coach rumbled to life, pulling Lenore further away from home, yet bringing her closer to the start of a new life.
PieTaster
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2006
- Posts
- 390
They were off their mounts, leading their horses between the trees, stepping gingerly on the uneven mossy ground. Rhys had removed his riding spurs and packed them in the saddle pouch. Sir Terrell, several yards to the Prince's right held up his hand and stood motionless. Rhys peered through the trees watching and listening for what Terrell had detected. They stood perfectly patiently still for a necessary length of time. Then Terrell's head perked up and he waved his hand slowly forward. Rhys finally heard the splitting of wood maybe a hundred yards ahead. Terrell dropped lead of his horse and Rhys did the same with Titan. The stallions would not leave unless endangered. Terrell warbled a bobolink call. Soon after Blake tiptoed out of the brush to his right and crouched next to him. Terrell warbled once more. Arturi and Sam appeared as well. The five of them drew their daggers and proceded.
The waning daylight became clearer through the trees as they approached Angel's Pool. The woodcutting was now loud and clear and accompanied by voices and other fumblings over the constant swish of the falls that filled the pool. One of the bandit's horses whinnied. The knights numbered seven, as two more had found them in the woods. They could see the camp now, along the narrow shore of Angel's Pool. The pool itself was not very large, perhaps a hundred feet across. gentle ripples eminated outwards from the falls. The horses were kept on the right. On the far left, a larger canvas tent stretched between two trees. A couple of very small tents rimmed the site. Packs and blankets were strewn about. Right before them, in the middle of the camp three men chopped wood. Their shirtless bronze backs glistened in the late afternoon sun. Next to the shore, a bandit butchered away at a boar, hacking at the sinews. The gentle rush of the falls spilling into the pool on the north side provided the knights cover to whisper.
"Twenty of them, you say?" asked Terrell.
"Or thereabouts," Blake answered.
"I haven't seen anyone go in or out of that tent," said Rhys, noting the large canvas structure on the left.
"What I might give for a crossbow right about now," contemplated Terrell.
"How about a knife?" suggested Sam. Sam was a deadly knife thrower.
"We have seven knives among us," noted Rhys. "That's not near enough, even should you drop seven men."
"Which one is the leader?" asked Blake.
"No idea," said Rhys.
"We need a diversion," Terrell contemplated as he eyed the horses.
"You handle that," said Rhys and turned his attention back to the tent.
"The maiden," commented Terrell. He knew precisely what Rhys was thinking. He knew him too well and couldn't disagree.
"I'm not going to let them get away with it," Rhys resolved. Perhaps they already had, but the Prince was determined. To steal was often an act of desperation in desperate times, but to defile a woman was to be sick and cowardly and was unforgiveable.
"All right," Terrell began. "I'll go stir up the horses, then if enough of them give chase, the rest of you can move in." he handed Sam his knife. Then so did the others.
"I'll need mine," said Rhys.
"M'Lord, you're not in battle dress," Blake reminded him.
"Neither is Sir Terrell," the Prince replied.
Terrell slinked away noiselessly into the brush. The rest of them spread themselves out among the trees. After a few minutes the horses started braying. One of the woodcutters looked up. The animals had been tethered to two ropes stretched between two trees. One of the ropes fell slack and the horses jostled. The the other rope dropped to the ground as well.
"What's this?" the woodcutter brandished his axe and paced towards the horses. The other two cutters and the butcher stopped to look on. Two of the animals in front jumped back. Stones bounced at their feet. A few of the beasts jumped off into the forest. Then a stone caught one of them in the neck. The horse reared up and nieghed disagreeably, waving his mane to and fro. The ruckus spooked the entire stable and a dozen darted off into the shadows. The first cutter ran over to gather the few remaining animals. The others dropped their axes and called to the rest of the camp. About half the bandits jumped to their feet and scrambled to fetch their horses.
"Show yourself!" a large, burly one bellowed into the trees. His black beard twisted and frayed away from his gnarled face. Brandishing a nasty scimitar, he crouched behind his buckler, scanning the forest warily. Sam held the first dagger by the tip of the blade, vertically before his eyes, lining up his target carefully. His arm went forward and the knife spun swiftly through the air, under the criminal's buckler and slashing deeply into his thigh. He collapsed and cried out in anguish, the bright red blood running from his leg and the knife dangling awkwardly from the wound. The camp plunged into utter chaos. Shouts ramparted to and fro and weapons were unsheathed. A second bandit, scurried to his feet to find a new position. No sooner had he raised himself, did Sam's next knife find his chest. Staying low, Rhys bellied over the deadfall and crouched his way around the camp towards the back of the tent. Blake had led the charge from the woods and the men were fully engaged in combat. The shouts and the clang of steel disturbed the tranquil wood.
Using the tent itself as an obstacle of vision from the camp, Rhys tiptoed to its base and laid himself down flat in the dirt. With the end of his knife, he carefully lifted the canvas enough to peer beneath. There the maiden lay, face down with her hands tied to a stake. She was alone and still clothed in her peasant dress. Sitting up he pulled the canvas tight and slashed it open with two or three deep coarse rips. The maiden looked up, tossing her wispy orange locks, and gasped. He lunged forward to cover her mouth. Holding a finger to his pursed lips he wordlessly bade her be still. Once she calmed, he wedged the knife against the stake, beneath the binds and yanked upwards, slicing her free. Leading her out the way he came, he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her off into the woods.
There was a rustle in the brush. The Prince stopped and crouched low, setting down his carry.
"Lord Rhys, is that you?" a voice called. "I found your horse." Sir Donner dismounted and stepped towards him.
"Aye, a Gallman well met," Rhys stood. "You come from the garrison?"
"Fetched by Sir Branson, yes. The Second Cavalry is here, and none too soon it would seem." Donner eyed the Prince's lack of combat armor. "Come, let me take you and this maiden from here."
"Take the girl," Rhys instructed. "I'm going back in."
Rhys handed over the maiden and unsheathed his bastard as he picked his way deftly through the roots and deadfall to the camp. There Sir Blake had been jumped from behind after finishing off his own. He struggled to wield his sword as the bandit held a knife to his throat. Rhys charged forward, grabbed the wrist that held the knife and pulled the scoundrel from Blake's shoulders. As they fell awkwardly, the knife tip dug into the ground and the bandit lost grip. Rhys pinned his forearm across the foreigner's shoulder, threatening his neck with the blade of the bastard. As the Prince glared into the thief's grimy face, Blake's boot struck him swiftly in the ear and the southern brown eyes went into a daze.
There was commotion in the trees and soon after, two mounted knights of the Second Cavalry appeared. More knights on foot stepped into the camp. The fight was over.
Four bandits lay dead on the shore. Six others had been captured. Sir Terrell returned from the woods with four more, fag-bundled by their own horse tether, and a sly grin. The rest of the pack had fled into the forest. Among other booty, a search of the bags in the camp recovered Lutton's silver.
Rhys nursed the back of his hand. He had felt it graze the bandit's knife as it stuck in the ground but thought it a blunt strike. The dripping bright red slice proved otherwise. Sir Norrick of the Second Cavalry, noticing the wound, brought him a kerchief dressing.
"M'Lord," Norrick hailed. "What brings you to this duty? You're not supposed to be here, certainly not out of dress."
"Duty cares not of dress," the Prince answered. "It merely calls."
"And rescuing a peasant woman from the clutches of bandits is the duty of a noble?"
"'Tis the duty of a gentleman."
"Aye, M'Lord," Norrick grinned. "That it is."
"Such a raid in Lutton, so close to the garrison and to the border of Azurmont itself is a bold undertaking," Rhys noted.
"Indeed," Norrick nodded, "but at the moment I have more pressing orders," he grinned. "I am under specific urgent instruction to lead you forthwith to Azurmont Castle to ensure your attendance of tonight's torchlight dance." He rocked on his heels smirkingly. "It will be a month's stable duty for me should I fail, so shall you oblige or might I need coax you with steel?" Norrick gripped the handle of his sword for effect.
"Then good sir, let me not impede your duty longer," the Prince smiled.
Norrick laughed and Terrell heartily patted him on the back.
/\/\/\/
It was dark by the time they arrived at the castle. Rhys knew that he would have missed the official reception of his love's arrival, which even if did not cause her outwardly upset, would at least fret her within. Word was sent forth that the Prince had indeed finally arrived with his apologies. He had not seen Lenore in nearly a month, with all the court diplomacy going on fledgling alliances with the various factions of power within the vast Empire to the south, keeping him from visiting the neighboring province. Although he longed to see her soon, he felt that his shabbiness warranted a visit to his chamber to prepare.
The doctor was called to cleanse and redress his wound. It had not closed properly so the doctor ordered it sewn shut. The Prince gritted his teeth and winced with each stitch. His whole hand was rewrapped with white linen before Rhys was permitted to bathe.
Standing in front of the glass, He stroked his dark beard, neatly trimmed to the jawline. His hair was deep dark brown, appearing black from a distance, trimmed close on the sides, thick on top waving forwards to a widow's peak. Standing two inches short of six-foot, he was not a tall man, but fit and sturdy in the shoulders and legs. Dark curls again covered his broad chest. A knotty scar cratered his skin where an arrow had pierced his left thigh at the Battle of Kösst, during the spring offensive of the War of Palran.
He pulled the white blouse over his head and strung it up, covering it with the satin black tunic with the elaborate gold stitching. Matching the midnight blue tights with a cape, he sat on the bed and pulled on his black soft leather boots. returning to the glass, he adorned his neck with the heavy gold chain of the House of Valcour. Only the bandaged hand stuck out. Slipping on a pair gloves to match the boots, he hid the wound, swollen and throbbing, hoping that she would not question such as out of the ordinary.
His steel blue eyes then pleased with his demeanor, he was ready to see her. There would be no more duty for the day and any more diplomacy was for the morrow. This was precious time for his love.
The waning daylight became clearer through the trees as they approached Angel's Pool. The woodcutting was now loud and clear and accompanied by voices and other fumblings over the constant swish of the falls that filled the pool. One of the bandit's horses whinnied. The knights numbered seven, as two more had found them in the woods. They could see the camp now, along the narrow shore of Angel's Pool. The pool itself was not very large, perhaps a hundred feet across. gentle ripples eminated outwards from the falls. The horses were kept on the right. On the far left, a larger canvas tent stretched between two trees. A couple of very small tents rimmed the site. Packs and blankets were strewn about. Right before them, in the middle of the camp three men chopped wood. Their shirtless bronze backs glistened in the late afternoon sun. Next to the shore, a bandit butchered away at a boar, hacking at the sinews. The gentle rush of the falls spilling into the pool on the north side provided the knights cover to whisper.
"Twenty of them, you say?" asked Terrell.
"Or thereabouts," Blake answered.
"I haven't seen anyone go in or out of that tent," said Rhys, noting the large canvas structure on the left.
"What I might give for a crossbow right about now," contemplated Terrell.
"How about a knife?" suggested Sam. Sam was a deadly knife thrower.
"We have seven knives among us," noted Rhys. "That's not near enough, even should you drop seven men."
"Which one is the leader?" asked Blake.
"No idea," said Rhys.
"We need a diversion," Terrell contemplated as he eyed the horses.
"You handle that," said Rhys and turned his attention back to the tent.
"The maiden," commented Terrell. He knew precisely what Rhys was thinking. He knew him too well and couldn't disagree.
"I'm not going to let them get away with it," Rhys resolved. Perhaps they already had, but the Prince was determined. To steal was often an act of desperation in desperate times, but to defile a woman was to be sick and cowardly and was unforgiveable.
"All right," Terrell began. "I'll go stir up the horses, then if enough of them give chase, the rest of you can move in." he handed Sam his knife. Then so did the others.
"I'll need mine," said Rhys.
"M'Lord, you're not in battle dress," Blake reminded him.
"Neither is Sir Terrell," the Prince replied.
Terrell slinked away noiselessly into the brush. The rest of them spread themselves out among the trees. After a few minutes the horses started braying. One of the woodcutters looked up. The animals had been tethered to two ropes stretched between two trees. One of the ropes fell slack and the horses jostled. The the other rope dropped to the ground as well.
"What's this?" the woodcutter brandished his axe and paced towards the horses. The other two cutters and the butcher stopped to look on. Two of the animals in front jumped back. Stones bounced at their feet. A few of the beasts jumped off into the forest. Then a stone caught one of them in the neck. The horse reared up and nieghed disagreeably, waving his mane to and fro. The ruckus spooked the entire stable and a dozen darted off into the shadows. The first cutter ran over to gather the few remaining animals. The others dropped their axes and called to the rest of the camp. About half the bandits jumped to their feet and scrambled to fetch their horses.
"Show yourself!" a large, burly one bellowed into the trees. His black beard twisted and frayed away from his gnarled face. Brandishing a nasty scimitar, he crouched behind his buckler, scanning the forest warily. Sam held the first dagger by the tip of the blade, vertically before his eyes, lining up his target carefully. His arm went forward and the knife spun swiftly through the air, under the criminal's buckler and slashing deeply into his thigh. He collapsed and cried out in anguish, the bright red blood running from his leg and the knife dangling awkwardly from the wound. The camp plunged into utter chaos. Shouts ramparted to and fro and weapons were unsheathed. A second bandit, scurried to his feet to find a new position. No sooner had he raised himself, did Sam's next knife find his chest. Staying low, Rhys bellied over the deadfall and crouched his way around the camp towards the back of the tent. Blake had led the charge from the woods and the men were fully engaged in combat. The shouts and the clang of steel disturbed the tranquil wood.
Using the tent itself as an obstacle of vision from the camp, Rhys tiptoed to its base and laid himself down flat in the dirt. With the end of his knife, he carefully lifted the canvas enough to peer beneath. There the maiden lay, face down with her hands tied to a stake. She was alone and still clothed in her peasant dress. Sitting up he pulled the canvas tight and slashed it open with two or three deep coarse rips. The maiden looked up, tossing her wispy orange locks, and gasped. He lunged forward to cover her mouth. Holding a finger to his pursed lips he wordlessly bade her be still. Once she calmed, he wedged the knife against the stake, beneath the binds and yanked upwards, slicing her free. Leading her out the way he came, he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her off into the woods.
There was a rustle in the brush. The Prince stopped and crouched low, setting down his carry.
"Lord Rhys, is that you?" a voice called. "I found your horse." Sir Donner dismounted and stepped towards him.
"Aye, a Gallman well met," Rhys stood. "You come from the garrison?"
"Fetched by Sir Branson, yes. The Second Cavalry is here, and none too soon it would seem." Donner eyed the Prince's lack of combat armor. "Come, let me take you and this maiden from here."
"Take the girl," Rhys instructed. "I'm going back in."
Rhys handed over the maiden and unsheathed his bastard as he picked his way deftly through the roots and deadfall to the camp. There Sir Blake had been jumped from behind after finishing off his own. He struggled to wield his sword as the bandit held a knife to his throat. Rhys charged forward, grabbed the wrist that held the knife and pulled the scoundrel from Blake's shoulders. As they fell awkwardly, the knife tip dug into the ground and the bandit lost grip. Rhys pinned his forearm across the foreigner's shoulder, threatening his neck with the blade of the bastard. As the Prince glared into the thief's grimy face, Blake's boot struck him swiftly in the ear and the southern brown eyes went into a daze.
There was commotion in the trees and soon after, two mounted knights of the Second Cavalry appeared. More knights on foot stepped into the camp. The fight was over.
Four bandits lay dead on the shore. Six others had been captured. Sir Terrell returned from the woods with four more, fag-bundled by their own horse tether, and a sly grin. The rest of the pack had fled into the forest. Among other booty, a search of the bags in the camp recovered Lutton's silver.
Rhys nursed the back of his hand. He had felt it graze the bandit's knife as it stuck in the ground but thought it a blunt strike. The dripping bright red slice proved otherwise. Sir Norrick of the Second Cavalry, noticing the wound, brought him a kerchief dressing.
"M'Lord," Norrick hailed. "What brings you to this duty? You're not supposed to be here, certainly not out of dress."
"Duty cares not of dress," the Prince answered. "It merely calls."
"And rescuing a peasant woman from the clutches of bandits is the duty of a noble?"
"'Tis the duty of a gentleman."
"Aye, M'Lord," Norrick grinned. "That it is."
"Such a raid in Lutton, so close to the garrison and to the border of Azurmont itself is a bold undertaking," Rhys noted.
"Indeed," Norrick nodded, "but at the moment I have more pressing orders," he grinned. "I am under specific urgent instruction to lead you forthwith to Azurmont Castle to ensure your attendance of tonight's torchlight dance." He rocked on his heels smirkingly. "It will be a month's stable duty for me should I fail, so shall you oblige or might I need coax you with steel?" Norrick gripped the handle of his sword for effect.
"Then good sir, let me not impede your duty longer," the Prince smiled.
Norrick laughed and Terrell heartily patted him on the back.
/\/\/\/
It was dark by the time they arrived at the castle. Rhys knew that he would have missed the official reception of his love's arrival, which even if did not cause her outwardly upset, would at least fret her within. Word was sent forth that the Prince had indeed finally arrived with his apologies. He had not seen Lenore in nearly a month, with all the court diplomacy going on fledgling alliances with the various factions of power within the vast Empire to the south, keeping him from visiting the neighboring province. Although he longed to see her soon, he felt that his shabbiness warranted a visit to his chamber to prepare.
The doctor was called to cleanse and redress his wound. It had not closed properly so the doctor ordered it sewn shut. The Prince gritted his teeth and winced with each stitch. His whole hand was rewrapped with white linen before Rhys was permitted to bathe.
Standing in front of the glass, He stroked his dark beard, neatly trimmed to the jawline. His hair was deep dark brown, appearing black from a distance, trimmed close on the sides, thick on top waving forwards to a widow's peak. Standing two inches short of six-foot, he was not a tall man, but fit and sturdy in the shoulders and legs. Dark curls again covered his broad chest. A knotty scar cratered his skin where an arrow had pierced his left thigh at the Battle of Kösst, during the spring offensive of the War of Palran.
He pulled the white blouse over his head and strung it up, covering it with the satin black tunic with the elaborate gold stitching. Matching the midnight blue tights with a cape, he sat on the bed and pulled on his black soft leather boots. returning to the glass, he adorned his neck with the heavy gold chain of the House of Valcour. Only the bandaged hand stuck out. Slipping on a pair gloves to match the boots, he hid the wound, swollen and throbbing, hoping that she would not question such as out of the ordinary.
His steel blue eyes then pleased with his demeanor, he was ready to see her. There would be no more duty for the day and any more diplomacy was for the morrow. This was precious time for his love.
SilkenSanctuary
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2007
- Posts
- 441
The sun was just beginning to disappear behind the mountains when Lenore and her party arrived at the castle. Horns sounded as they pulled up and pages came from the stable to tend to the horses. As servants exited to begin removing luggage, a familiar face greeted them
"Ah! So you've made it in one piece, have you?" The Duke's advisor stepped from the entry way and took Lenore's hand. "It is my pleasure to welcome you back to Azurmont and to our fair castle. I trust your journey was pleasant?"
Lenore smiled and curtsied, her ladies following suit behind her as the guards that had accompanied them stood watch and the other men tended to the coach. "Yes, the day was beautiful for traveling. As good as it was, however, I am pleased to have arrived."
The advisor nodded his head and led Lenore inside as the horses were pulled away to the stables. "Doris here will show you to your rooms and an escort will summon you shortly after for presentation to the Duke. " He turned towards a rather round woman who curtsied low before beckoning the Lady to follow. Lenore smiled at the pudgy Doris and glanced back to ensure her own maids were following. In truth, she'd not truly needed the woman's guidance. It was obvious soon enough that the rooms they were being led to were the same as those Lenore had occupied on her last several visits to Azurmont.
The rooms had been airing all day and smelled of sunshine. It filtered through the light window dressings, billowing them gently and stirring small fiber particles up to dance in the warm beams. Doris bustled around and immediately went about unpacking the trunk that had arrived only moments before. The girls retreated to their own chambers to change from their travel clothes and for the first time in what seemed a while, Lenore was alone. She closed the door behind her as she entered her bedchamber and smiled. The room held memories, all of them sweet. She could hear Doris in the adjoining room, her dressing room, as she finished with her clothes. Time was short. She hardly wanted to keep her Rhys and his father waiting for her.
The door between the rooms opened and Lenore peeked inside at the woman. "Doris, I thank you but do you think you can cease long enough to help me into something more suitable for greeting the Duke and Prince? There should be a greenish sun dress with lacing up the back in that chest."
Doris scuttled towards the chest and quickly found the correct dress. "M'lady, I don't think the Prince will be at the reception. I have heard he is part of the group out scouring the forest for raiders that attacked Lutton this afternoon. I don't think he's returned yet but I could be wrong."
Lenore frowned and slipped into the dress, standing tall as the woman at her back began to tighten the laces. "Really? Hmm. Is there any word back at all yet? I do hope they catch them. The borderlands have been taking quite the beating lately, haven't they? I just pray they finish by nightfall. Things are always more dangerous at night."
Doris grunted an agreement and then returned to work unpacking. Lenore moved towards the dressing table and sat long enough to tame a few wild tendrils of hair and add a touch of carmine to her lips. A knock sounded at the door; her escort had arrived. She smiled at her reflection and her green eyes sparkled back at her. It would have to do.
Downstairs, her arrival was announced and Lenore entered the vast great room of the castle. Lenore smiled at the figure sitting in a large chair at the end of the room and then flit her eyes to the empty one beside it, silently sending a greeting to the Duchess, Rhys' mother, whom she'd never had the pleasure of meeting before she passed.
"Lady Lenore, you are quite the sight for tired, old eyes." The Duke of Azurmont stood and took a step towards her. Lenore's smile grew wider and she curtsied before the man. When she rose, he reached for her arm and pulled her into a fatherly hug. "It is lovely to have you back here again, child. The entire household has talked of nothing but you for the past several days. Everyone has eagerly anticipated your arrival. "
"Thank you, my Lord. It is a joy to be back. Azurmont is truly spectacular at this time of the year."
The man nodded his head and then dismissed all in attendance. He glanced conspiratorially towards Lenore and waved towards a door off to one side. "Please, join me for a light supper. The feasting for tonight's torchlight dance has the cooks denying me a proper meal. Luckily, I was able to sneak a page in for enough bread and soup to hold us over. Come, let us talk of how your father fares!"
~~~~
The velvet brushed exotically against her throat. It was a beautiful shade of blue that reminded her of Rhys' eyes. A teardrop shaped pearl hung at the hollow of her throat and swayed gently when she moved. The choker was a fitting addition to the blue gown she'd brought for the dance - simple, elegant and tasteful. Lenore smiled at Denise, her youngest maid, who stood behind her working to pin half of her hair up in curls at the back of her head.
"My hair looks perfect, Denise. Thank you. Have you finished preparations on yourself? If not, I can finish up here. I believe all I have left is to don my slippers and gloves." Denise smiled at Lenore and scurried away towards the giggling that could be heard coming from the common area of their rooms.
Lenore sighed. There had been no word yet about the patrol. With any luck, Rhys was back, unharmed and waiting for her out on the grounds. She wanted tonight to be one of celebration, not of putting on a good face and worrying herself sick. If he lay injured, a messenger would have been sent ahead of the party to prepare the medics. She hoped they would have the decency to alert her as well. No news, she told herself, was good news. Everything was fine. It had to be. Hopefully.
Finally, a knock sounded on the door and a small army of guards stood smiling at Lenore's handmaids. "If you're ready, m'ladies, it is time." Lenore stood and slid her feet into her blue slippers. The gloves were applied as she strode towards the door.
"Alright, girls. Let's go have some fun, yes?"
"Ah! So you've made it in one piece, have you?" The Duke's advisor stepped from the entry way and took Lenore's hand. "It is my pleasure to welcome you back to Azurmont and to our fair castle. I trust your journey was pleasant?"
Lenore smiled and curtsied, her ladies following suit behind her as the guards that had accompanied them stood watch and the other men tended to the coach. "Yes, the day was beautiful for traveling. As good as it was, however, I am pleased to have arrived."
The advisor nodded his head and led Lenore inside as the horses were pulled away to the stables. "Doris here will show you to your rooms and an escort will summon you shortly after for presentation to the Duke. " He turned towards a rather round woman who curtsied low before beckoning the Lady to follow. Lenore smiled at the pudgy Doris and glanced back to ensure her own maids were following. In truth, she'd not truly needed the woman's guidance. It was obvious soon enough that the rooms they were being led to were the same as those Lenore had occupied on her last several visits to Azurmont.
The rooms had been airing all day and smelled of sunshine. It filtered through the light window dressings, billowing them gently and stirring small fiber particles up to dance in the warm beams. Doris bustled around and immediately went about unpacking the trunk that had arrived only moments before. The girls retreated to their own chambers to change from their travel clothes and for the first time in what seemed a while, Lenore was alone. She closed the door behind her as she entered her bedchamber and smiled. The room held memories, all of them sweet. She could hear Doris in the adjoining room, her dressing room, as she finished with her clothes. Time was short. She hardly wanted to keep her Rhys and his father waiting for her.
The door between the rooms opened and Lenore peeked inside at the woman. "Doris, I thank you but do you think you can cease long enough to help me into something more suitable for greeting the Duke and Prince? There should be a greenish sun dress with lacing up the back in that chest."
Doris scuttled towards the chest and quickly found the correct dress. "M'lady, I don't think the Prince will be at the reception. I have heard he is part of the group out scouring the forest for raiders that attacked Lutton this afternoon. I don't think he's returned yet but I could be wrong."
Lenore frowned and slipped into the dress, standing tall as the woman at her back began to tighten the laces. "Really? Hmm. Is there any word back at all yet? I do hope they catch them. The borderlands have been taking quite the beating lately, haven't they? I just pray they finish by nightfall. Things are always more dangerous at night."
Doris grunted an agreement and then returned to work unpacking. Lenore moved towards the dressing table and sat long enough to tame a few wild tendrils of hair and add a touch of carmine to her lips. A knock sounded at the door; her escort had arrived. She smiled at her reflection and her green eyes sparkled back at her. It would have to do.
Downstairs, her arrival was announced and Lenore entered the vast great room of the castle. Lenore smiled at the figure sitting in a large chair at the end of the room and then flit her eyes to the empty one beside it, silently sending a greeting to the Duchess, Rhys' mother, whom she'd never had the pleasure of meeting before she passed.
"Lady Lenore, you are quite the sight for tired, old eyes." The Duke of Azurmont stood and took a step towards her. Lenore's smile grew wider and she curtsied before the man. When she rose, he reached for her arm and pulled her into a fatherly hug. "It is lovely to have you back here again, child. The entire household has talked of nothing but you for the past several days. Everyone has eagerly anticipated your arrival. "
"Thank you, my Lord. It is a joy to be back. Azurmont is truly spectacular at this time of the year."
The man nodded his head and then dismissed all in attendance. He glanced conspiratorially towards Lenore and waved towards a door off to one side. "Please, join me for a light supper. The feasting for tonight's torchlight dance has the cooks denying me a proper meal. Luckily, I was able to sneak a page in for enough bread and soup to hold us over. Come, let us talk of how your father fares!"
~~~~
The velvet brushed exotically against her throat. It was a beautiful shade of blue that reminded her of Rhys' eyes. A teardrop shaped pearl hung at the hollow of her throat and swayed gently when she moved. The choker was a fitting addition to the blue gown she'd brought for the dance - simple, elegant and tasteful. Lenore smiled at Denise, her youngest maid, who stood behind her working to pin half of her hair up in curls at the back of her head.
"My hair looks perfect, Denise. Thank you. Have you finished preparations on yourself? If not, I can finish up here. I believe all I have left is to don my slippers and gloves." Denise smiled at Lenore and scurried away towards the giggling that could be heard coming from the common area of their rooms.
Lenore sighed. There had been no word yet about the patrol. With any luck, Rhys was back, unharmed and waiting for her out on the grounds. She wanted tonight to be one of celebration, not of putting on a good face and worrying herself sick. If he lay injured, a messenger would have been sent ahead of the party to prepare the medics. She hoped they would have the decency to alert her as well. No news, she told herself, was good news. Everything was fine. It had to be. Hopefully.
Finally, a knock sounded on the door and a small army of guards stood smiling at Lenore's handmaids. "If you're ready, m'ladies, it is time." Lenore stood and slid her feet into her blue slippers. The gloves were applied as she strode towards the door.
"Alright, girls. Let's go have some fun, yes?"
PieTaster
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2006
- Posts
- 390
The torchlight dance was a joyful mid-summer tradition in Azurmont. Between the spring planting and the autumn harvest pause was taken on the first weekend following the solstice for celebration. Upon dusk on the Saturday eve, the town square before the castle was adorned by the glow of torches and a broad portion of the cobbles was cordoned off for an outdoor ball. The commoners gathered about the perimeter in good cheer and were treated to a bill of entertainment. Even children were permitted to partake. It was a celebration for the people.
The weather was almost always favorable. This year it was a perfect warm night with scarcely a breeze and the quarter moon graced the vast starry sky. The crowd hushed as the evening's emcee took the cobbles piping a playful number on a wooden flute. With a spring in his step he knelt down here and there to make faces at the laughing children as he whistled away. When the tune completed he bowed animatedly to resounding applause.
"Welcome all!" he orated with outstretched arms. "I bid you all welcome to Azurmont's very own Torchlight Dance Celebration!"
Prince Rhys took in the show from the window just inside the castle gate for a moment before presenting himself. The merriment was underway. The Duke's court band was assembling: a lyre, bells, two reeds, two horns, and a drummer. The people expected to see their darling couple take the first dance. He couldn't disappoint. He was ready to join the party.
The Prince strode forth from the shadows and into the torchlight of the castle gates. His father the Duke was there to greet him with his sister, Rhys' aunt Beatrix, heavy-set, tiered in pink silk and piled white curls. Her presence was always warm and cheerful. All the advisors were there as well. He curtsied to them all. Then there was his beloved, wrapped in blue with a pearl choker around her dove-like neck. As ever, she was breathtaking.
"Lenore, my love," he smiled. "Shall we dance?"
He offered her his elbow, his left one, keeping his injured hand away from her. The band began to play the march. It was time to lead his lady through the gates and take the first dance.
The weather was almost always favorable. This year it was a perfect warm night with scarcely a breeze and the quarter moon graced the vast starry sky. The crowd hushed as the evening's emcee took the cobbles piping a playful number on a wooden flute. With a spring in his step he knelt down here and there to make faces at the laughing children as he whistled away. When the tune completed he bowed animatedly to resounding applause.
"Welcome all!" he orated with outstretched arms. "I bid you all welcome to Azurmont's very own Torchlight Dance Celebration!"
Prince Rhys took in the show from the window just inside the castle gate for a moment before presenting himself. The merriment was underway. The Duke's court band was assembling: a lyre, bells, two reeds, two horns, and a drummer. The people expected to see their darling couple take the first dance. He couldn't disappoint. He was ready to join the party.
The Prince strode forth from the shadows and into the torchlight of the castle gates. His father the Duke was there to greet him with his sister, Rhys' aunt Beatrix, heavy-set, tiered in pink silk and piled white curls. Her presence was always warm and cheerful. All the advisors were there as well. He curtsied to them all. Then there was his beloved, wrapped in blue with a pearl choker around her dove-like neck. As ever, she was breathtaking.
"Lenore, my love," he smiled. "Shall we dance?"
He offered her his elbow, his left one, keeping his injured hand away from her. The band began to play the march. It was time to lead his lady through the gates and take the first dance.
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