Nar 18, 228: A Worthy Soldier

A Worthy Soldier
Summary: Aemy checks on the healing soliders from the recent battles, ends up talking at length with Symon.
OOC Date: 21/July/2013 (OOC)
Related: None Yet
Symon Aemy Aldren 
Room description
Nar 18, 228

Late in the evening, enough that the sun is threatening to set - daytime guards are coming in while the night watch has already left. A few are still out in the field practicing, training, or talking and acting like they are practicing or training, while a few are gone to find their supper. Symon has managed to haul himself out of bed and make it as far as one of the communal tables closer to the front of the barracks - he's not DOING anything productive, but he's out of bed and feeling better just because he's there, leaning his good elbow on the table while cradling the bound one closer to his lap. Maybe someone is bringing a bowl of stew back. Who knows?

Aemy has been coming to the barracks daily to check on those wounded in the recent battle the soldiers had recently returned from, though she walks slow, taking her time, but not for any other reason than the incredibly swollen belly she carries with her. The Ruxton is about two months from having a child and she looks as if she is due anytime and she endures the gentle ribbing from the soldiers as she walks through on her usual rounds. As she catches one of her more mortally wounded ones sitting at the table, she approaches him with a kind smile. "It seems you have managed to get yourself out of the bed. Are you feeling light headed at all?"

Symon is not precisely on his most alert, as the Lady is several steps inside before he lifts his head to look, and blinks. He makes a good effort of straightening up, then clears his throat and murmurs, "Forgive me for not taking my feet, my Lady. I seem to be moving rather slow today." There's a long pause while he considers the questions being asked, then nods his head slowly in the affirmative, "I have slept so long, I don't think I can actually go back to it right away, though the ground does seem to move a little when I do." A faint smile chases his last words, trying to display a sense of humor about it, "I take it that because I do not hear Laniveer commanders, that we took the field? If you've told me this before, I do apologize for asking again."

Noting his slow response, Aemy looks at him with concern, taking a seat with him at the table instead of passing further along or remaining standing. "Forgive me for sitting, I just.." patting her rounded abdomen, she gives him a rueful smile. "You are not well, so you are not expected to rise, please just remain at ease." Lifting her hand that contains the small pouch she carries with her, she places it on the table. "You have been home several days now, the war was not fought on our home ground. You have not asked of yet because you were too ill to. I passed the servant making your meal, so it should be delivered anytime soon and I want you to eat well. It should help you build your strength back up." The kind smile still tugs at her lips and she opens the bag and withdraws a smaller pouch with a powdered substance in it. "Drink this with your meal and it should settle the feeling of the ground moving on you."

Symon shakes his head slowly, eyeing her state for only a moment, "There is nothing to forgive, m'Lady. You are more kind than any I could think of, for coming out in such a state." The comment about him not feeling well brings a hint of the smile back to his face, "I am doing better than the soldiers we faced, so I will offer thanks to Sess regardless of the state I am in now." His gaze shifts to regard the pouch, then he reaches for the smaller one she draws out, accepting it while he listens to her instructions, "Just, mix it in with the soup and eat it? I am no healer, m'Lady. That is all it takes? I have no way to return the help right now, though."

His humility is surprising and Aemy has to smile in return. "I serve the King, I am from House Ruxton and as such, I am a healer to the soldiers. I am amazed how well you have healed, for.. awhile there it was thought you would not pull through. I offer thanks to Sess as well that we were able to bring you back. Also, I think your own will to live had much to do with your return to health." As he questions about the herb, his meal is then delivered along with a mug of ale. "If you would just take it with the ale by placing it on your tongue and drinking the ale, then it should work best, before you have the meal. Have you any questions for me as to the nature of the battle?"

His humility is surprising and Aemy has to smile in return. "I serve the King, I am from House Ruxton and as such, I am a healer to the soldiers. I am amazed how well you have healed, for.. awhile there it was thought you would not pull through. I offer thanks to Sess as well that we were able to bring you back. Also, I think your own will to live had much to do with your return to health." As he questions about the herb, his meal is then delivered along with a mug of ale. "If you would just take it with the ale by placing it on your tongue and drinking the ale, then it should work best, before you have the meal. Have you any questions for me as to the nature of the battle?"

Symon inhales deeply when the food arrives - apparently his appetite is NOT suffering, from the light it brings to his eyes along with the muttered, "Gods that smells good." The caution about the herb IS noted, however, even if he's really looking at the food and not her when he nods. He reaches for the ale then pauses to unwrap the herb, then glances at her, using his 'good' hand to pop it into his mouth, before washing it down with a large swallow of the ale. There's a wince against the bitterness, but it passes quickly. His eyes close for a moment, and when they open, he turns his head to look at her face again and asks, "Do you know how many of my unit were lost? They were throwing themselves at us in waves. I could tell His highness was winning, because they were getting so desperate, but they were wearing us down…"

Taking enjoyment from a man with a healthy appetite, Aemy remains silent while he raves over his food, pleased he finds it so, though she certainly had nothing to do with the cooking of it. When he takes the herb, she smiles approvingly and only when he asks her a direct question does she break the silence. But only after he has spoken about what he had experienced. "Not directly, but there was at least two who were brought in who did not make it longer than the first complete day here. I am sorry for the loss of your friends and comrades. The only others from your unit who arrived was a Knight who has already left, but he asks about you daily and another soldier who is laying in the back. He lost one of his legs to a sword of the enemy."

The ghost of a smile fades for a few moments when she speaks of the two that were lost, but he nods slowly in acknowledgement, pursing his lips for a second, then turns his attention to the bowl of stew, "Even an amazing victory cannot happen without some loss. They fought bravely and did as was asked of them." He's already reaching for the spoon when she mentions the knight, which stops him, bringing a look of confusion across his face, "I'm sorry, Lady, but, did you say the Knight is still alive? I saw him fall. He did not die?"

"Perhaps it was not the same one you are thinking of? There were several out there that day and many were injured. I only just assumed he was from your unit due to his interest in you, perhaps it is only because he was in here at the same time as you and he wanted to see you fully healed. I know not of your Knight that has fallen." Aemy hastily reassures, for to give him false hope would be the most cruel of punishments.

Symon ohs softly and nods, "Perhaps another then, but I cannot think of who would be asking for me. Perhaps I was hit in the head a little harder than I thought." The faint smile finally returns, and almost as quickly as it registers, a huge spoonful of stew is in his mouth. The slight groan that escapes him is borderline scandalous in the presence of a Lady, but it is followed by a soft sigh as he swallows, "Thank you, Lady Ruxton. My head feels a little clearer already." There's a heartbeat or two that passes, and another spoonful of stew, before he asks, "May I ask when you and the Lord are expecting your child?"

"Possibly he is." And as the man digs into his meal, Aemy considers him a moment, smiling as he reassures her that he is feeling better already. "I wonder.. you were asleep when you arrived and have only woken in fits. I have your name from your those in your unit, but I would like to hear it from you, just to make sure." His question brings a peaceful smile curving her lips and she touches her rounded abdomen. "Two months, sometime in September and the baby will be here." There is a beaming maternal pride in her eyes as she speaks of the child and she has to ask. "Have you any children?"

The question is enough to draw his curiosity back to her face. There's a moment as he finishes swallowing, then a broad, bright smile spreads across his face, "But don't you recognize me, m'Lady? I'm His Majesty Callem Kilgour." Okay, he can only let that sort of blasphemy go for a second, before he chuckles and adds, "Symon. Simon Farrow, Pikeman of his Majesty's Army." Another spoonful of stew disappears before he shakes his head in the negative and murmurs, "No, M'Lady. I am not married and have never been, save for I suppose being married to the army. No chance to have children of my own just yet."

His humor catches her by surprise and Aemy finds herself responding in kind. "Why, Your Majesty, surely we could find much better lodgings than these for such an important man!" Of course Aemy had met the king on many occasions, so she is aware of who the soldier is not. "And your wife the queen must be terribly worried about you." Tightening the rope on her pouch style bag she had brought with her, she smiles when he gives his true name. "It is indeed a pleasure meeting you, Symon Farrow and the deeds you have done for the kingdom certainly do deserve to be honored and recognized." At his mention of no marriage or children, she gives him a smile of encouragement. "Then I hope you find every happiness you are looking for and I highly recommend marriage and a family. My own marriage was arranged, though it all turned out very well in the end."

Symon mmms softly, "I think you are far braver than I, m'lady. Choosing to spend the rest of your life with someone you did not know at the time? I merely walk out on a battlefield, knowing things will be decided before supper. I did nothing out there that anyone else in the unit would not have done. At least, I would hope so. We held the line and His Highness won the field." A sudden concern crosses his mind, "The Prince IS unharmed, yes?" Of course, that doesn't stop him from continuing to devour the last of his stew while he listens, either.

Aldren arrives from the Courtyard.
Aldren has arrived.

The compliment brings a quiet blush to her cheeks and Aemy quietly refutes it. "It is as all nobility do, we simply allow the heads of our house or our parents to arrange things for us. No bravery required." Her smile does not falter, but there is a sympathy in her eyes when he speaks of the battlefield. "Possibly," she somewhat agrees. "Yet not everyone who walks out on a battlefield returns home. The same cannot be said about noble marriages. Everyone always lives." Her lips quirk in another smile. As he mentions the Prince, she inclines her head. "Oh yes, the Prince is healed now as well also. He was only marginally hurt."

Again, Symon rumbles softly at her answer, but this time he dips his head a bit in a more affirmative guesture, "I will have to accept your word on that, m'lady." The last spoonful of stew is dealt with, and a soft sigh escapes him as he slides it to the side, "I think that, and whatever herb it was you had for me, are doing much better. I don't think there is much chance of my getting back to sleep any time soon, however. How long is it necessary that I remain here off duty, has it been said?" His head tilts a little to the side in curiosity - sitting around sounds like its going to get to him, quickly.

Limping in is Count Aldren Haravean, he has a wincing look upon his face as he enters. Nodding to any soldier who meets his gaze he makes it only a few feet in before recognizing someone. The opposite table as Aemy and Symon holds a Greenshire man, "Binden, How fare you?" the man attempts to stand but Aldren waves him down. "My Lord, my arm received a small wond nothing to write home about." The common man smiles and pulls his sleeve back revealing a bandaged wound from wrist to elbow. Aldren smiles, "Yes, nothing to—." He stops when he hears Aemy. " Turning he bows slightly and says, "My, Lady, say that to my sister." the words are not scornful, bur sorrowful.

"I am glad you seem to be feeling better. You certainly have more color than you did earlier in the week." Aemy mentions in an almost offhand manner. "If you would remain at least until tomorrow evening, then that would be wonderful. I think the Prince was wanting to come by at least and check on the soldiers. He had to recoup from his own injuries as well but should finally be around tomorrow. If you would like to take a walk to the Tavern in town or even the Village square or the market you may do so, but please return here for rest, so I can check on you again tomorrow." Having been preparing to leave shortly, Aemy is surprised as another enters. Overhearing his words, she regards him with unabashed curiosity. "Your sister?"

Symon murmurs, "I have heard of some of the fighting going on there recently…maybe it would be better if I DON'T go down to the Tavern." Amusement flares up across his face and in the tone of his voice, but it's short lived, because a Count just stepped in and is addressing some of the soldiers. A small bow of his head is offered along with a murmured, "Good evening, m'Lord," but nothing further is said - instead, rather, he shoots a curious look over at Aemy after Aldren's comment.

Regarding Aemy politely he says, "Yes, my sister, she is the Baroness of Blackforge…." He lets the words trail off assuming he has said enough. Leaning back he sits on the bench opposite of their table, his back to the common man. A nod is given to the injured soldier. "And you are?" He says in a respectful tone to the man who has laid his life on the line for the realm.

Rising, with some difficulty, Aemy pushes herself up with the use of the table, her rounded stomach hindering her more than usual. "Perhaps not going to the tavern is a good idea," amusement dances in her eyes as she agrees. "I should go back for the night, but I shall return on the morrow, Symon Farrow." At the words from the Count though, her brow furrows and the amusement fades. Most had heard of the Baron of Blackforge and his very, very, very ill treatment of his wife. "My sympathies, perhaps our paths shall cross soon." Bowing her head, she moves towards the door with slow steps. "Good evening to you both."

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