Umbra 14, 228: A Study in the Library on War and Women

Aldren, Roslin and Tyrel converse in the library on the upcoming council meetings and war plans.


Umbra 13. 228: A Study in the Library on War and Women
Summary: Aldren, Roslin and Tyrel converse in the library on the upcoming council meetings and war plans.
OOC Date: October 18th, 2013 (OOC)
Related: None
Players:
Tyrel Roslin Aldren 
The Library
Your footsteps are muffled by the thick, dark blue carpeting of the library. This room has been furnished to encourage the pursuit of scholarship and learning: Several large, comfortably cushioned mahogany chairs invite you to sit and read for hours. A few tables and desks of the same deep red wood are provided for more serious studies. The room is well lit with chandeliers.

Heavy doors to the north lead out to the hallway, and cut off any sound from that direction. To the east, ornate windows let in the indirect sunlight, and a door leads into the royal gardens. An alcove contains a message area, and an archway leads into the Library Collections proper. Stairs lead up to the second level of the library.

Umbra 14, 228

Aldren nods along and says, "Yes, that makes sense. Surely you talk with.." He looks back at her maid and frowns, "Her." He adds begrudgingly and looks back out the window. "Well, at any rate, if your mother worries half as much as you then she will surely welcome some relaxed conversations." He glances at her with a little smirk as he pokes fun at the ever so proper Roslin.

Roslin Kilgour, Princess of Mobrin and Laniveer, wearing a brown-and-ochre dress embroidered with beads of gold and freshwater pearl, stands along the castle corridor by the window close beside the Count of Greenshire, Aldren. The setting evening sunlight is caught on her tiara, set among her red crown of braids, as the pair talk. Her maid and guard are nearby, out of earshot but closely watching the pair. They are staring out the window, Roslin with her bare hands placed on the stone sill. A peal of laughter goes up from the pair. "Of course. But still, it is different. You speak with your valet, I assume - but do you speak with him on courtly matters, on matters of economy and warfare and armor and archery, as you might a peer?" She shakes her head at the man. "Mother worries more than I do. She has more on her heart and shoulders than I do, more than I could ever dream of bearing. So many children, a war, a country, another child to come …." Roslin lowers her head with a little sigh. "My mother is the sun and the moon and the stars. She is the bright light in every day and the strength of every tall tree. If I become half of the woman that she is, I shall be quite proud indeed." She speaks with emotion, turning her eyes up to the Haravean beside her.

Tyrel walks down the hallway with a tome in his hand and a pinched looking young man on his left, "It was an interesting account, Trevor, but lacked the fundamental information about troop movement needed to be useful, see if there are any other accounts from that winter in the library and send word if ther are." He pauses when he sees others in the hallway and sends Trevor off towards the Library shelves saying, "This can be returned to the shelves." The pinched looking young man moves off and Tyrel looks over to the others in the hall, he nods his head to Roslin and Aldren. "Count Aldren, Princess Roslin, good day to you.

"Surely not." He confirms to Roslin. He listens to her praise of her mother and smiles. "She is surely a queen. I think you share many qualities." He says sweetly to her.

When the prince approaches Aldren bows, "My prince, I'd heard you returned. Good news indeed." He says kindly. "And a few ships just the other day. Tell me, where you aboard the Lacey Anne?"

Roslin seems about to say more to Aldren, opening her mouth to speak. But then, Tyrel's voice is heard and she turns, stepping back and away from Aldren to present herself more fully in the corridor. Her maid and gaurd are already kneeling, and Roslin lowers herself into a respectful nod of a curtsy for the man's arrival. "Are you torturing yourself with the works of the worst poets Mobrin has to offer again?" She asks, lightness in her voice and tone.

Tyrel gives a quick gesture for the maid and guard to return to their ease, the gesture is second nature and his attention barely shifts from the count and Roslin. His soft blue eyes drift over the Aldren and Roslin with casual air before he shakes his head, "No, count, we traveled overland the last few legs of our journey. I had meant to inspect those levied soldiers that were to have gathered in the surrounding areas, but word reached us of the troubles in Sutherland so we sped here directly. As for the poetry, I believe you offered to provide the verse and the audience for a recital, though I do hope you'll be inviting my wife along with your friends."

The Count straightens up and listens to the prince. "Yes, terrible news." He thinks for a moment and says, "There is a large host outside the city. What of marching. The men ache for war. For home or death. The situation is becoming volitile." His words seem dire and he looks most curiously to Tyrel. He does give a glance to Roslin at the speak of poetry and recitals, and alas, he just can't help himself. "Did the princess tell you of the sewing circle she intends to join?" He passes the comment off with ease and awaits laughter or hellfire. Whichever the fiery girl chooses to use.

Roslin may have been planning to respond to Tyrel. Really, and truley, she may have been. Doesn't matter now, because the Count's words are enough to cause her highness to break from decorum, her beloved decorum, and turn her face quickly toward him. She has to keep from smacking him, though the slight movement in her arm indicates her intent. Her lips are parted in a gape that is stuck somewhere between horror and laughter. "Why you devlish little…" A moment of pause, and Roslin is able to stand with composure again. "There is no safe place between such two men for a young girl like me. My dear Tyrel seems to have it in his head that I am a turner of verse, and will have me prove my lack of such in a room before all the good ladies of court. And you, my dear Count, would have me in a room with all those ladies who may not call themselves good!" She coughs a little, sombering up a bit at the talk of the host.

Tyrel wears an amused smile, "I believe, dear sister, that it was your suggestion that you call all of your friends and have me read for them, I just insisted you provide the verse." He looks to Aldren, "I imagine, Count Aldren, that you arrived at the suggestion of Princess Roslin's sewing circle in a similar way, she is quite fond of her cleverness but often forgets that experience trumps inspiration four falls out of five. For the men, though, there will be drilling and training aplenty to keep them occupied and most will be returning home for the last of the harvest and to prepare for winter. There will be a war council in two days to discuss what last deeds must be done before this winter closes in on us, if you have not received word of it then it is awaiting you in your office."

Aldren laughs at the little princess and says, "I would surely not have you there. Though, could it be that bad? You must accept the girl at some point. It would most likely help your relationship with your brother." He says plainly to her before responding to the prince. "Well, I know my men have just recently arrived after a long march. To have them simply turn around would not be wise. Surely they could be sent south. Well, we can discuss is in two days." He glances at Roslin and says, "Will you be there? Or out sewing?" He chuckles a bit at her as he teases her.

Roslin flushes at Aldren, and no doubt there are things she would say to him if she could. Still, self-control yet again wins out. "Nevermind, brother - the Count is a good-natured fellow and only wishes to make me laugh with his japes. I beg that you pay him no mind. Perhaps your wife might be able to see to your verses better than I, though. You have such a voice for reading, particularly the romantic portions I am sure, it would be a crime to waste your tongue on words that are not befitting it." She smooths out her dress in a habitual motion, regaining her composure. "Still, I do hope that I may say I might be there - there is always so much other time for sewing." Roslin does not exactly promise she will be there, though the gaze she gives Tyrel after murmering her answer is definitely a curious and a hopeful one.

Tyrel pushes a hand through his hair reestablishing the wandering part, "I believe that good-natured quick witted loyal supporters of the crown are the people I should pay the most mind to. The war council is no place for a young woman, Sister. Besides if I allow you to come I will not hear from you what rumors and gossip of it escapes the walls. I have found, Count Aldren, I learn more about the things I say from those who did not hear me speak than those I speak to directly. Do you find it the same?"

Aldren smirks at the princess and says, "Relax young one. In truth you are more fitting for a war council then a swewing circle." He looks to the prince and says, "She is truely wise." He smiles to them both, truely sincere in his words. When the prince is done he laughs, "I do, I do. Tis why I've no wish to play the courtly game. Things I say to myself seem to circulate!"

Roslin seems momentarily stunned to realize that she will not be participating in the war council. "But, Tyrel-" she begins to protest, her voice mixed with pleading and concern. Her self-control gets the better of her, however, and the girl realizes this is not the time and place. So, she lowers her head in an obedient nod, clasping her hands lightly in front of her. Though she recieves Aldren's praise with a warm nod in his direction, and a soft: "You are too kind, My Lord," she is notably quieter now. At least she isn't pouting.

Tyrel nods, "I've no doubt regarding her intelligence and wit, Count Aldren, but these conversations will not be of the sort I would subject any lady, let alone my sister to." When the count moves off he looks to Roslin, "You will abide by my decision, of course, but you do not seem to agree entirely. What place do you think you would have at the council?"

Roslin nods her head respectfully toward Aldren as he makes his way off. Once he is gone, once they are surely alone and not to be overheard, Roslin lifts her eyes to her brother. "Of course, brother, I will abide by your decision." She lets that fact hang in the air a moment. "Troop movements, the making of war - these are topics where your abilities and knoweldge are unquestionable. You will be surrounded by men equally capable. But where will the men be who are able to advise you on the cost of moving or staging troops in specific areas? The quality of the roads, and the usefulness of passes, river crossings, and infrastructure? The rumors and whispers of the local people? I am a trusted confidante of many lords and ladies here at court. And, if I am present at such a meeting, not only can I lend my own strategic expertise on these and other issues, but I can learn what news might be relevant to your upcomming plans. I will not even speak, if you do not wish me to. I shall be as silent as a whisp. But please, brother … allow me to help you."

Tyrel turns to look out the window as well, "Give a few moments consideration, Roslin, to what it would mean if you were seen to be attending a war council." He folds his hands behind his back, "I see a few potential opinions. I could be seen to be indulging my Sister in unladylike behavior or I could be seen to be treating you as a military advisor. The first would impact both of our reputations poorly, the second would cause you to be a member of our miltary forces and no longer protected by the codes of chivalry. I feel you would do me greater good by learning what you can of our councils through what gossip and rumor escapes, then discussing with me in private to add what opinions you wish."

Tyrel adds, "Further, this is not a meeting of higher strategy, this will be a discussion of those tactics that will be acted upon within the next weeks. Men will die based on the words exchanged at this meeting, I will not burden you with that."

"Solara Ruxton is Vice Chancellor for the realm. Our cousin Terrwyn was Steward. It is not unheard of for women to hold such positions as these. No one calls their womanhood into question over it." Roslin keeps her voice low - she does not get angry or frustrated in her tone. She continues to use the gentleness that Tyrel has heard her use to discuss any of the other matters in previous sensitive discussions. She bows her head low in a small gesture of obedience. "I will obey you as always, Tyrel. But if these men are to die defending me and the other women of the realm as much as they shall die defending you, should I not share the burden the same as you?"

Tyrel looks over at Roslin, "Those are not positions of war, Roslin." He considers for a few moments, "And before you argue over shared burdens I will ask you to present me a man who can bear a child. I cannot take on all your burdens, you cannot take on all of mine, but we will ease each others when we can."

"I would only ask then, that you allow me to be yours." Still, she does not seem to want to argue more. She lowers her head, a bit dejected. "Logen will take my absence as an opportunity to remind me how very useless I am," the girl mutters, for a brief moment appearing as an unhappy teenage girl. But, with a sight and a lift of her head, she regains her composure. "May I ask who shall be included? I would advise that Admiral Eoin Haravean certainly be there. You may not have met him yet but he is a quiet, reserved, yet steadfast strategist and naval expert. To my eyes, at least." Meekly, she lowers her head again.

Tyrel says, "Young men are strapped for pulling a face like that if assigned guard duty, Roslin, I imagine young women have similar corrections for avoiding their duties. Logen has his own duties to see to, you have yours, they are not comparable." He considers the names she provides and nods, "Eoin will be consulted on maters regarding the naval forces, though the majority of the meeting will be the short term strikes to be done before the weather sets in, those decisions must be made now. Troop movement is less critical as there will just be less pleasant marches, not impossible fighting conditions to be faced."

Roslin bows her head to her brother's words. She pauses a moment, as if considering to say something, before she appears to decide against it. Instead, she takes a different direction. "You know all I desire is to please you and our parents, and to make you proud of me. If this is your desire, I of course will be happy to follow your direction." She nods her head sincerely once more. She cannot entirely hide that she is still hurt by this, but she doesn't fight him.

Tyrel nods, "My desire, Roslin, is to be running the lists against competitors not taking the field against enemies. I wish to be drinking and dining vanquished knights not burying them. That is what I desire, but until my duties are met and our kingdom is whole I must see to my duties as you must see to yours."

Roslin lowers herself once more in a respectful curtsy. "I understand," she says. Rising, she nods once more to her brother. "Forgive me if I seemed argumentative. You know that once I have a thought or scheme, I shall know no peace until it has been spoken. If you have no further need of me this evening, may I take your leave? I have promised Mother I would dine with her tonight."

Tyrel nods, "Of course, sister, and do me the favor of making time to speak to Ciarrah about your ideas. It will be to both your advantages to learn to work together…" He pauses for a few moments, "…Light save me if the two of you ever decide I've done wrong, but it would give good reason for the three of us to talk if the two of you were to become known companions…perhaps you could take up knitting since sewing seemed to offend you."

Tyrel is settled into one of the chairs reading through a sheaf of old reports. The scrolls crackle as he unrolls and seperates the individual pages scanning each before seperating them into one of three piles. The crown prince's guards are stationed at the entrances to the library.

Naazil walks into the library with slow steps. His eyes spot the guards and then the prince as he walks futher into the room. Looking over the books he smiles softly reading over a few titles examining them with care. Pulling out one large tome on the history of Mobrins past battles he settles into a chair and begins to read quietly.

Tyrel looks up, and then just a little bit higher as the man of unusual stature walks in. "Ambassador Naazil, good day." He offers as he man takes a seat then goes back to sorting the papers.

Naazil looks up from his book as he is addressed and smiles warmly at the Crown Prince. "Good day to you as well Young Majesty." He watches the man a moment before he goes back to reading the book in his lap. He does not wish to interupt the man and reads quietly instead.

Tyrel settles back in with his scrolls and charts.

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