Thedor 5, 229: Explosive Council

Explosive Council
Summary: After much delay, the council meets to discuss recent events. When it appears only one event is going to be on the docket for the evening, the council room explodes with questions and accusations of treason fly!
OOC Date: 05/01/2014 (OOC)
Related: [http://daeren.wikidot.com/asserting-ones-place]
Players:
Aidan Aldren Caedmon Eldan Eoin Laetitia Luna Robben Ronan Tyrel Wenna 
Council Chambers - Darfield Castle
The council chambers are much like the rest of the castle. Opulent tapestries line the walls as gray marble covers the floor. The ceiling is vaulted, with a mosaic painted of the Battle of Skingaard. The north wall of the room is almost entirely made of glass, looking across the sea beyond. In the center of the room is a large table, with chairs lining each side, and a large chair, similiar to a throne, at the head.
It is day 5 of the month of Thedor, 229 2E

Caedmon is sitting in his usual place, in the first chair on the right-hand side of the throne. Before him sit an inkwell, several sheets of paper for taking notes, quills, a candle-stand with a tall, lit, bees-wax taper. and a clay tea-set that consists of a simple cup and squat teapot. He is wearing his formal attire for the occasion. The singular oddity is his mane of once fiery hair, which has lost all color, becoming as white as flour or new snow on a bright, sunny morning. His eyebrows and lashes are equally colorless. Beside him sits the royal healer, wearing a gown of light blue velvet with gray silk sleeves. Her hair is braided and bound in a crown of silver fishnet with pearls and sapphires woven into it.

Having ridden back up from Sutherland, Sir Ronan Crawford arrived last night. Tired, he retired to the Sutherland suite and spent most of today catching up on paperwork and arranging his schedule for the week and resting from the trip. Now he arrives in the Council Chambers dressed impeckably in black for mourning in plain but nice clothing. His arming blade, dagger, signet ring, and spurs the only other contrasts in colors.

With the Duke comes his man servant, Rosley, whom is a slender older fellow with thin grey hair, also dressed in black. With him he brings a flaggon of wine and a cup for his lord and will otherwise not take part. Ronan himself goes to the table near to where Caedmon is seated to greet the man, but once he gets there the Rioga stops to study Caedmon, noting the white hair, "Good evening, Voice." With a slight bow of respect to the other man. Whatever else he was going to offer is, for the moment, lost with his surprise at the change in the Baron.

Eoin enters shortly before the specified start time, with a sheet or two of parchment rolled up in his hand. Caedmon gets a polite inclination of he head and Wenna a broad smile and a pleasant, "cousin, it is good to see you," before he's greeting Ronan with a polite nod, "Your Grace." EYeing the table for a moment he takes a seat that will afford him a view of the sea and settles to wait for business to get underway.

Cai escorts Eldan's chair to the Council Chambers and then he waits outside while Eldan enters the room. Eldan pushes his chair into the room, giving a nod to Wenna before tilting his head to the side and simply staring at her husband a moment. He shakes his head, "Good evening Lady Wenna, Lord Caedmon." He pauses a moment, pondering whether to comment on the hair or not, and finally chosing to keep all the various comments to himself. He has obviously been hanging out with Kieryn too much lately, "Where would you like me?" He's still not entirely sure about being here, but he's at least willing to give it a go. This is one of those times where he gives serious consideration to the idea of strapping a lance to his wheelchair and letting Cai push him down a hill as his part of the war effort. Ronan is given a nod across the table, as is Eoin when he enters.

The Duke of Lakeshire shows an impassive face as he is allowed through the doors of the council chambers, a royal correspondence in his hand if any try to question why he is here. He has been absent from the last several years of Court proceedings, with the reason being the passing of his wife. Granted, he assumed after that much time had gone by that a royal decree was in order before waltzing back in. Now he does, as if he hadn't missed a beat. The polished boots clunk solidly with his every step in, as the long jacket styled tunic reaches to his knees, black of course, styled with the embroidery of silver, the breast pocket showing the Lake Kincaid Lily. Silver round and fashionable hasps keep the upper collar of the tunic snug and closed. A belt marks his waist line with the extra length of it set to one side, tipped in silver. His hair has been neatly set back and his eyes hold a thunderous intensity to them. Laughter is all but erased from his features. Business was afoot, his liege Lord to attend, or in absence of, the Voice. He comes alone and perhaps the spark of irritation in his eye had some indication of due cause because of his look to Rosley. Regardless, Aidan makes the proper shows of respect to the Voice with gestures, before he takes his seat, wordless.

Wenna looks tired and ashen. She moves pick up a quill that sits before her. She uses her finger to test the sharpness of the quill. She is silent as she watches the men enter. She rises from where she is seated and she offers them a stiff but deep and proper curtsy. Her hand remains on the table so she can balance herself. Rising from it she goes to settle herself down on a chair. She snags a piece of parchment from the pile that sits before Caedmon. She dips her quill into the ink. She casts a side long glance at her husband. "Lord Admiral I pray you are well?" She asks her cousin with a warm smile that does little to ease the tired look on her face. "May I have a servant bring you wine? Your Grace's would you like some wine too?"

Stepping in not long after the Duke of Lakeshire comes the Heir to Weston, expression a bit thoughtful as he looks between the people present. Getting the polite gestures done towards all the others, he moves to find his seat, steps a bit slow as he looks around the room a bit carefully for the moment, before seating himself.

An odd addition to the Council Meeting arrives: Priestess Luna steps through the doors, her hair and eyebrows as white as her robe. It seems she and Caedmon match in this odd affliction. After tightening the knot of the golden rope at her waist, she moves quietly toward the Voice. Her lips moves, but her words are kept nearly silent for his ears alone.

Rosley sets the flaggon of wine and the cup upon the able at approximately the same chair that Ronan occupied at the previous meeting he attended. The older servant then bows to those who have assembled in the room and then turns to withdraw to wait outside in the hall, unless wanted.

Ronan studies Caedmon, "Whatever happened to your hair?" Yes, that's the question he asks, not moving to take a seat yet. The Rioga also studies Wenna who looks far too worn down. "Thank you, no. Rosley has brought me Sutherland Red, thank you."

After that inspection, Ronan half turns to nod to Eoin, "Admiral Haravean." Ah, and there is Aidan. The Crawford's deep baritone rumbles, "Good to have you join us, Uncle. Will you join me at table?" You know, so that they might speak low if wanted without disturbing the others.

Caedmon watches while the various nobles arrive, and bows his head deeply at each greeting. Those who seem to have noticed the recent change in his appearance receive an especially warm and kind smile, one to assure that they will not offend him by such attention. "Welcome, lords, and please forgive my informality. We do not have time for announcing the titles of each person, because there is much business," he begins. "Lord Eldon!" he adds, "please, sit wherever you are most comfortable, except for the throne, of course." He glances to the great seat at the head of the table. "The servants by the door will bring food and drink as you wish. Both are sworn to secrecy." When Ronan ask about his hair, Caedmon lifts his hand and urges, "All in due time." Then he looks to Luna, and he waves to the seat across from him, at what would be the absent king's left hand. "Please, blessed one, sit there. You will be speaking first."

Aidan cooly watches the displays of propriety dance between the figures, new faces from the last time he took council perhaps. It had been -years- after all. New faces but most that he knows, if not personally, by their infamous names alone. His gaze turns toward Ronan, "Of course good Nephew. I wouldn't have it any other way." Positions at the table were important. The head of course for the king and the Voice, but all else, well, it'll remain to be seen. Aidan settles beside Ronan and asks, "May I have some of the Sutherland Red?" A brow quirk back toward Rosley, trusting in the wine that Ronan serves. After such, he falls silent, eyes watching Caedmon with great interest as Ronan poses the question of his hair.

Ronan takes his seat and lays the slender leather folio on the table he was carrying. Inkwells, parchments and quills are of course set out for whom ever needs to take notes. One of these the Duke draws closer so that he may do so. His gaze however has rivotted upon Luna for a long moment before he nods to Caedmon, "Certainly, Voice." He prepares his folio.

Aidan gains a nod, "Of course." Rosley of course has opened and tasted it already against poison, as that is his primary service. Ronan waits for a cup to be brought and then pours the deep dry red for both of them. A dark brow lifts at the news Luna will address them but he says nothing, curious. Likely he has heard the news of what happened at temple. A brief nod to Eldan and Robben as well.

Eldan nods to Caedmon and moves to a chair. He pulls it out and with a little effort transfers himself to the chair from his wheeled one. That way, he's sitting like everyone else. A little help from a servant has him pushed up to the table and the chair out of the way. It also has him with a glass of wine in his hand, before he turns back to Caedmon, "Yes, I am here." He's wondering if he lost his mind in agreeing to this, but he's here. Tamsin was overjoyed and practically pushed him out the door to be here on time too.

Amongst one of the larger showings in recent times is Aldren. The Count of Greenshire is dressed in fine livery describing his house and seated near his couisin. He has surely made all sorts of greetings and such so he just simply sits and waits for the priestess to begin. He does not afford too many glances to the new hair the two sport as he has surely heard some form of rumor and awaits what will be formally said. A little more eagerly it would seem than would be expected.

A nod of her head is offered as the men announce they will have the Sutherland red. Wenna is now quiet as she is listening to what is being said. The nib of the quill is lightly dipped into the ink and she begins to write. She looks to brother and then a side long glance is given to her husband before she raises an eyebrow at Luna's appearance. She would appear calm and her quill scatches across the parchment.

Tyrel has taken his seat with proper greeting and awaits things to be discussed.

The snow-haired priestess' brow lifts gently at the Voice's words. With a respectful dip of her head, she takes her assigned seat directly to the left of the empty King's chair. Her gaze moves around the room and her palms press together in greeting to all. "Thank you for including me in this meeting. Undoubtedly, you have heard a great many versions of a recent event at the Temple of the Light. I will not recount the entire tale at this time, although I shall make myself available afterward for any questions. The most important points are these."

After taking a deep breath, a serene smile curves her lips. "We were visited by Lord Sess Himself. He cleaved every statue of the Eight in twain, revealing a pair of scrolls in each, all written in an archaic language. He was in good spirits, His visit a positive one. We are hard at work attempting to translate the contents of the scrolls. The message has been made clear: the Eight wish us to break the current mold in order to implement the original truths hidden within. There will be great resistance by some to the changes that will be made, once these scrolls are translated. It is imperative the Court and Temple work very closely together in the trying times to come."

Aidan flashes his eyes once toward Ronan, almost immediately at the talk of breaking mold and original truths, his gaze wary of the words being said. Without word he sips on the wine as the Priestess makes her words known to the Council on what the message from the god was. Sess. Victory. War. Drinking wine holds the grimace in check and the abrupt desire to say something wild. As the wine goblet is placed back on the table surface, he tilts his head forward, working his jaw back and forth. "I suspect you have a good indication of what these scrolls will eventually say?" Aidan speaks when he can interject properly and politely.

Tyrel says, "The court will ever work with the temple to better understand and serve the eight. Though, priestess, I should prefer if a touch more caution is used presenting the understanding of such things. Stating that the meaning is clear when Sess cleaves the statues of the eight may not send the proper message without further knowledge." He looks towards Aidan, "I believe she said they need to be translated."

Eoin has indeed heard many stories of the events in question, mostly from his crew making their provinance suspect at best. Once Luna starts giving her account he leans back in his chair, watching and listening carefully. Gods appearing in person, hmmm, thats a step up from them using dreams and visions to communicate. The mention of original truths has his frowning thoughtfully for a moment until Tyrel's words snap him out of the rever and he nods his agreement.

"Caution should be used when approaching this priestess, you are not the gods. How can we truly know what they mean? I would agree with our Prince, we need to know what is said within those scrolls first before we begins to postulate." Wenna voice is quiet but gentle. She reaches for Caedmon's drink and takes a sip before she sets it back in place. She is chewing on her lower lip.

"Then how is it we know it speaks of great change? And that what comes within them will be held with great resistance by some?" Aidan retorts easily to Tyrel, the chambers being a free place to talk, perhaps. Though he does nod to the ask for caution, that much is noted.

Caedmon inclines his head to Luna. "We thank you, blessed one. The assurances of the temple, and more certainly, from the Eight who guide and guard us, are most welcome." He casts a glance around the room at the others. "As some of you might have noticed, this … visitation produced other … effects. In time, I am sure that they will lead us further into their light." At this time, I believe that our best approach is to pray, to remain watchful, and to report anything unnatural that might appear among us."

"Forgive me for asking this," Robben begins, raising an eyebrow briefly as he hears the words of the Priestess. "If the message left by this visit will need to be translated, how can you be sure it was a positive visit?" His words are kept relatively quiet, as he lets out a bit of a sigh. "Would it not be wiser to not say if it was a positive or not, until the message is at least a little clearer?"

Aldren may have seemed about to say something but everyone takes care of that for him. He looks to the Priestess and awaits any answers she may have. He does consider Caedmon's words briefly but naught is said. Instead, he just glances around. No need to throw his hat in the ring on these religious matters now.

"I also ask and beg for caution before many decided to burn any whom they deem as unfavorable to the gods or see supernatural and unappealing. I would not want us to have a witch hunt. We see every year during the festival of Sheat what happens when people are frightened by what they do not understand." Wenna adds in her quiet voice as she continues to write. "I also agree with Sir Robben."
<OOC> Wenna says, "edit as supernatural…"

Eldan simply sits quietly and listens. He is in agreement with most that until the scrolls are translated they can not know the full meaning of the visit. He nods to Wenna, though it has been many years since he has been involved in the Festival, he has heard stories. "I definitely think caution is needed here. People as a whole tend to fall into mob mentality easily and we don't want that to happen."

Ronan shares a look with Aidan but the others are speaking more than enough of caution and a desire to wait and see what the scrolls may mean before actions can be taken. The Crawford's attention is certainly sharp, listening. He sips his wine lightly once but otherwise says nothing. Instead, the Rioga Duke takes down a few notes on Luna's precise wording in brief.

Tyrel looks up, "No quarter will be given to witches and those who consort with fouler powers. Such inquiries are always handled with caution but this time of research will not be a time for doubt and corruption to seep in."

Luna dips her head. "The meaning I stated was made clear to me, but you are correct in stating I should have waited to declare it to you until the rest of the evidence made itself clear." Shifting her gaze to Robben, her smile only deepens. "Lord Sess was clearly not upset." A quick glance is sent to Caedmon, an unspoken question, before continuing. "When he saw me standing by the statue of Umbra, he laughed heartily and kissed my forehead. Furthermore, there was no feeling of foreboding or ill omen amongst any of my peers I have discussed the visit with."

After a pause, the Crawford speaks up, "If it /was/ Sess, and he was not displeased with us, that is a good start. Better than the frightened rumors I have heard." Ronan says, not loudly. "It will be good to calm people's fears, first."

Caedmon patiently waits while various nobles speak. Then he reaches forward and raps his knuckles on the hard wooden surface. Looking to Luna, he questions, "Am I correct that he smashed only the statues? The worshippers are well. Are they not?" Turning to Wenna, he adds, "Royal healer, you have treated a guest who suffered … something during this incident. Please tell the council as much as you can about her condition without violating your oath of confidentiality."

Wenna looks over at the council. "Yes, Voice, the wounds that she had obtained had healed completely. My staff tells me she was brought to us with countless open wounds on her legs. A malodorous liquid was oozing from the open wounds. She was in pain. We treated her and she was released from our care pain free and as I had said before completely healed. She is weak still though." She explains in that same quiet voice.

After the Royal Physician speaks, Luna interjects, "I /believe/ that was because the absolute purity of a god demands no such impurity can exist in its presence. Whatever foul liquid was inside her was forced to leave her body all at once by the same old injuries in which it had entered — there should be none left." After a beat, she answers Caedmon's question. "Other than that unique situation, the only other injuries I know of were some minor bruises and scrapes from those who fainted. Other effects, such as this," she gestures toward her tight white curls and eyebrows. "Are not injurious."

"I think that it is unwise for you to make assumptions priestess." Wenna responds back in a calm and cool voice. She reaches for the Cup near Caedmon and she takes a sip of it again before she puts it back into place. She then begins to write again.

Aidan regards Tyrel with a long contemplative look, a frown that settles on his lips does not easily remove itself now that the address has been clear, that witches and those who consort wth fouler powers will be given no quarter. Only when Luna addresses the council again does Aidan remove his studious gaze away from Callem's son. His gaze then repeats the room, as if seeing which are cautious and which are encouraged by such a visit from Sess. His lips tighten at the mention that the Priestess was standing by a statue of Umbra, whom is worshipped by those who wish to remain in cloak and shadow. He sits back in his chair and rubs at his chin thoughtfully, scrubbing the whiskers there upon. Finally, he speaks again, "I believe, if others would agree, we should leave this in Temple hands, until we can get clear indication of what are in those scrolls. The public should not know of the visit, as, they will quickly respond with mob mentality, especially granted the other circumstances facing us."

Robben stays quiet for the moment, expression as if he was a statue. The only sound from the Ruxton at the moment is a few deep breaths, as he glances between the people present, and then over at the door, briefly. His gaze goes to Aidan at the Duke's words, and he nods a bit slowly.

Eldan furrows his brows slightly as he listens to the exchange. He's not sure he likes everything he hears, but Eldan is one who tends to think the best of everyone. "I think we should revisit this once the scrolls have been translated. Until then, there is little use speculating as we do not have all the information."

The Crawford Duke lifts a brow at what is described and leans over towards Aidan, "Too late for that, Uncle. People are frightened because they don't know what happened. Thunder, lightning, the breaking of statues… this is the first I'd heard the Gods were not angry with us." Ronan looks to the rest of the Council, "Some declaration to set people's fears at ease while the scrolls are studied might be wiser than silence and fear. Indeed, it could encourage moral for the war effort if the Gods are pleased, even if we have no details as yet."

A sip of his wine and Ronan adds, "What else is on the Council's agenda to discuss?"

Caedmon inclines his head to Aidan. "These questions will need time," he declares. "We have other business to attend, but I do not believe that we can give such attention to other matters at this time. Therefore, we shall adjourn. This council will reconvene to consider other matters in two days."

Aidan remarks to Ronan, "Let it not be then said that Sess was the one that came down to visit. Sess will ignite the flame and set our lands ablaze with war." As the god often does, lead people to march during his month. "Now if that is the intent, then let us be done with it and proclaim as much-" his gaze hard on the others at the table. Of course, his attention swings back to Caedmon, at the matter of adjournment. That makes Aidan blinks and straighten in his seat, "We speak easily of gods descending from the clouds to visit priestesses not their own… but we will not speak with what the real fear is? The King?" Is he the only one thinking it? ANd if so, he's damn sure he's the one bold enough to say it.

Ronan thins his mouth, "I rode a week up from Sutherland in winter ice and wind. I second the Duke Kincaid. We want news of our King, Baron Kilgour. Have we no more business to discuss here and now?" The Rioga is getting rather angry with the constant weeks of waiting. Ronan's hand makes a fist and before he might thunder it down with a bang upon the table, he steels his temper. "So much time is being /wasted/, Caedmon. May we at least know what other matters are to be discussed for the next meeting?"

Robben remains silent for the moment, just listening to what's being said, expression just as stony as before.

Thus far Aldren has shown little interest in everyone spitballing on what they clearly do not understand. At the talk of war and the king he perks up though. "Aye. The Duke has the right of it." He looks to the voice now firmly. "I for one do not wish to be held in the dark any longer on the matter. What details can you share with us his majesty? The thaw will be here soon." Seems he agrees with both Dukes.

Caedmon nods to Aidan, Ronan, and Aldren in turn. "The king is well. He has his reasons for secluding himself. As for the things that remain, we must prepare to resume the war to subdue Laniveer's rebellious loyalists. To continue that, we will need information that the lord admiral has."

Laetitia quietly slips in, as quiet as a Queen can, taking a quick seat.

That is not a satisefactory answer to Ronan. The Crawford Duke thins his mouth, "Our liege has /reasons/ he needs to come out his hiding and /deal/ with the war, Voice. The Houses will not sit idle with our thumbs up our …" a look to Wenna, the only woman presant, then back to Caedmon, "And there are marriages to be settled NOW, before the fighting resumes. Do we take matters into our own hands if our King continues to hide himself away from the responsibilities of his position?" Yes, there is anger and frustration. Ronan moves to stand, "If Callem does not come forth to speak to us and deal with these matters soon, he will begin to loose the support of the Houses. You might do well to remind him if he wishes our support against the Laniveer. I came here a loyal man, willing to repledge to my liege my service, and dedicate Sutherland to this war, but I and others are being insulted by being kept waiting. I think it is safe to suggest our patience is wearing thing, Baron Kilgour." Bold words but Ronan is not a pissyfooting kind of fellow.

"You need to be removed from this council meet Duke Crawford." Wenna says in a gentle voice as she puts both hand on the table and rises from where she is seated. "Two days will not change anything, it is still winter and plans are being made." Her voice is gentle and her face still pale. She speaks softly. "You are speaking treason."

Aidan shakes his head at the manner of answer they get for the King, rather disappointing. They could be hiding something terrible. His eyes snap over toward Ronan once, pursing his lips in a warning and a soft shake of his head. Not the time. Though he goes on and does it anyway. Aidan frowns at the matters being avoided, listening to what Crawford puts forth, "It also needs to be addressed on top of what the Duke Sutherland has said, to the unresolved matter of Trueborn Keep's attack. I would hope none of us at this table will forget our own borders are being threatened by the sea by unknown asssailants." He looks over at Wenna when she tells Ronan he needs to be removed, politely, "I do not believe that is your place to decide, most Honourable. These are times for us to discuss without impeachment on what we say. House Crawford has suffered much. You, were able to get a resolution in short order for your own misadventures, but the Crawfords have not."

Deep breaths, and silence. That's all that comes from Robben at the moment as he studies the others present.

"House Crawford is not the only house to suffer heavy losses because of this war. Ruxton has held the boarder." Wenna reminds and she moves to take a seat again and she grows silent. There her eyes rest on each man in turn. "I will also remind all here that many soldiers and knight have lost their lives. There will be more fighting."

Luna has been silent since the topic was changed. Although the declaration that it not be said Sess Himself visited — as if they could stop the many other eyewitnesses from sharing that — causes a lift of the priestess' brow. Aside from that, she simply watches the interaction between the others. Her chin lifts gently and brow softly furrows when Ronan speaks words which could lead to dire consequences. Her attention shifts not to Caedmon, but to Tyrel, observing him intently.

"House Crawford is not the only house to suffer heavy losses because of this war. Ruxton has held the boarder. I will also remind all here that many soldiers and knight have lost their lives. There will be more fighting." Wenna reminds them all and she moves to take a seat again. She grows silent. Her eyes rest on each man in turn.

Ronan lifts his chin at Wenna's comment, "I do not speak treason, we want our King to lead us, not hide. I shall gladly remove myself from this otherwise pointless meeting, Baroness. /If/ we can gather to actually get some business /done/ for a change, then perhaps it wouldn't be such a waste of everyone's time." His tone of voice is quite cool, but quieter. Ronan closes his folio and leaves the wine, preparing to depart. The Sutherlander pauses long enough to look to his Uncle, when Aidan asks after Trueborn Keep. Ronan thins his mouth, finishes his wine and turns to leave, not having seen the Queen slip quietly in.

Laetitia will softly clear her throat, "Well, perhaps I can speak of some things, perhaps. At least in the way of one marriage that I have assurances on." Laetitia will murmur, another female presence in the room along with the other two, The Queen, Capital TQ, gently folding her hands. Waiting.

Eldan looks as if he is about to speak when the Queen pipes up. He lowers his head then, going back to simply listening. Perhaps once the Queen has spoken he will have more to add on the subject.

Caedmon rises to his feet beside Wenna. "We meet in two days," he repeats with a firm nod. Then his eyes slide toward the door when it opens, and he sees Laetitia. "By that time, his majesty will have time to respond to your expressions of concern for his welfare, which her majesty the queen surely will convey for you. This will also allow you time to prepare pledges of support for the war." He shifts his gaze to Aidan. With a slow breath, he adds, "The fate of your land and keep are well known to all here, your grace, and many months ago, when the siege began, orders went from this very room at the hands of the king and his crown prince to bolster your forces with men and material from other parts of the realm." He waves a hand. "None of us begrudges you that help." When the Queen speaks, softly but with that authority of a voice that all should recognize, he nods to her. "Your majesty, please speak," he invites.

"Ruxton does well to hold the borders, as do all of us, as -did- the Crawfords, but they, the enemy, got through… So it can happen again," Aidan Kincaid says without raising his voice but somehow it sounds like he did. He's not angry, at least not outwardly, just putting sense and reason on the table, matters that are most important to all those that are sitting at the table. For Ronan to leave though, the Duke of Lakeshire sits back in his chair and thoughtfully regards the rest of council. Abruptly, his eyes turn to notice the Queen has come to the meeting. He nods to her politely and would do more if he wasn't crammed in a noble chair. For the response that Caedmon has to the issue of the Crawfords, Aidan just shakes his head, crossing his arms a bit.

"Well." The Queen will begin, smiling demurely to all those in the room, "I have pleasant news that should at least ease some tensions. We have come to an agreement upon one marriage which pleases me to no end, the only details - which you can discuss with me Duke Crawford when it pleases you, though please, not now, not with tensions so palatable in the air- being the dowry." Stated towards the man softly as she reaches up a hand to stall his leave, "That all parties have agreed to a union between the Princess Roslin, my lovely daughter, and our Duke Crawford here." Oh, look how she glows with pride, "All that needs to be settled is the dowry, and it will be done." Yes, see that pleased clap of her hands together, "And the King is not ill, nor on deaths door steps though I can see why all would assume as much. " Yes, see, there is even a note of annoyance in her own tone at her husband king, "Any of what one wishes to get to the King can be sent through me and I will gain answers, one way or the other, or if the knowledge is held by me, give to you that which you wish to know." Oh yeah, she's also wearing a super fancy dress with flourishes and embellishments and stuff. And her hair looks good, and smells good. And she wears no foot wear upon her feet, though the fabric of her skirts conceals that fact. Dress porn, no.

Robben raises an eyebrow as he listens, holding back the urge to say a few words at the mention of his own house and family. Pausing for a few moments as he hears the Queen's words about the marriage. Turning to look at Ronan for a few moments, he offers the man a brief smile. "I guess congratulations are in order, Your Grace," he offers. Looking about to say something else, but not doing so now.

Ronan has stopped when he saw the Queen and heard her first words. He stands very still, watching her with the leather folio tucked beneath his arm. For some reason, her words furrow his dark brows as though what she says confuses him. He does not wish to be angry, no. A slow breath before he says quite low, "Your Majesty, with all due respect, the last time I spoke with King Callem, he made threats against my House. That I was to make marriage alliance with the Kundari for Mobrin or suffer his wrath. While I appreciate what you offered, you also made it clear it would be the Princess Roslin's to decide, and she surely will not agree. I would beseech the King that he make his preferences known unto me that I know I am no longer held under threat to align my House with the Kundari? I only seek straight answers and get on with it, Your Majesty. And a great deal more than marriage issues."

There is a brief pause for Ronan to glance back over his shoulder but he's still not certain this is any final answer, Laetitia's good intentions or no.

When the feeling of tension continues to grow, Caedmon grimaces. Then he reaches for the clay cup that sits on the table. He murmurs something.

Laetitia smiles faintly, a very thin smile, "Well. If you do not wish to marry her, then that is fine, Duke Crawford. Given your inability to hear out my words fully, perhaps you are right." Oh, the Queen will rise up, a bastion of cold anger, "Princess Roslin did indeed agree to the match, but I see now perhaps we were too quick in accepting as such with your current attitude. I was willing to overlook, a moment, your words of treason, hoping that they were just a slip of the tongue but you are so enraptured with yourself and your words it would seem that you have not the wit to hear what I said." A pucker of her bottom lip, hand flicking out lightly before it returns to rest on her stomach oh so lightly, "That is a pity."

Caedmon mutters to Wenna, "This needs to end…"

Aidan has sat in pensive thought while the Queen was speaking, announcing with resolute determination the marriage of Princess Roslin to the House Crawford. That earns another long drink of his wine, a quiet sniff afterwards. There are no congratulations in order, for his eyes regard Ronan expectantly, waiting for the man to accept or in this case, only show more unease by the alliance for the wrath of the King. His head gives another little shake, realizing the tensions are quite clear and that Mobrin was really not united as it should be. "I would suggest House Kincaid for such alliances with Kundari-" he puts in, "-if the King wishes a great House to align with them." And hopefully resolve the worry for Crawford.

Eldan is rather glad he is head of a minor noble house… and that his infirmity rather lessens his marriage potential. The odds of him being used in some major political marriage are far less than others at the table. He sits quietly, hands clasped on the table in front of him as he watches the verbal sparring going on around him. Maybe the King will still reject the recommendation of Caedmon to place him on the Council, because this is all likely to give him a headache.

Luna takes a deep, silent breath, evident only by the rise of her chest and shoulders. As her gaze slides over to the Queen, her expression becomes serene and closed. Gone is the joy from her earlier talk of Sess' visit or her concern at the words of others. The priestess has become a closed book, simply watching with great intensity… and wise enough to keep her thoughts to herself.

To the Queen, Ronan shakes his head negatively, voice softened, "No, Your Majesty, I'm trying to understand. The King tells me one thing and you tell me another. I only wish to know what has been decided without my House continuing under threats." He lifts a hand to rub over his face, "Forgive me, Your Majesty. There isn't a man in here that wishes more to be loyal to his King than I."

Wenna's quill has been forgotten she moves to close her eyes and she listens to the heated flow of conversation. When Caedmon speaks softly to her, she nods her head. It is as if she is now waiting for the tension to explode like a glass goblet that has been dropped from the second floor on to the first.

Caedmon takes another slow, unsteady breath and then bites his lip. He lifts the cup, drinks its contents quickly, and then drops his hand below the table for a moment before he clears his throat and urges, "I believe that the Duke and the Queen have matter to discuss /privately/. Let us adjourn." Again, he leans to murmur something to Wenna.
Caedmon mutters to Wenna, "… leader… war…."

"Indeed, Duke Kincaid." Laetitia will state cooly, her chin raised up, those green eyes of hers frozen over, "Perhaps we shall sup later to discuss the potential for alliances with the Kundari. You have sons, yes?" But her gaze is ever on Ronan, jaw tight, her posture impeccable as she stands, watching him and listening for - oh there it is, the softening of the tone, "You are speaking to /me/ Duke Crawford, and I deliver the words of the King, my husband, to you, as well as the words of my daughter, and you would doubt me? When is the last you spoke with the King, in comparison to when we last spoke? And my words to you that /I/ would deliver unto you a decision?"
Yes, her teeth snap together lightly as she inhales a deep breath, collecting herself, fingers lacing together lightly, and forcing a serene smile, "We shall discuss it more, perhaps we were too quick in thinking that the match would be for the benefit of all, if you question it so heavily." A moment is taken to listen to his final words, the Queens energy dark, "A wish to be more loyal is not the same as being loyal, Duke Crawford, and you have shaken my belief in you heavily with your careless words. You will have to stride to rebuild that foundation. To have your loyalty so shaken …" Oh, last words delivered with despair, "It so does break my heart." A glance to everyone around, the Queen giving a nod of her head as the meeting is adjourned.

Aidan looks at his wine cup mournfully. It is empty. To the Queen's words about Ronan, certainly has him wish for more wine, though he doesn't take any. He folds his arms across his chest as the tensions continue, "Your Majesty," he eventually tries to address to the room, "Duke Crawford is passionate to have things resolved so that he can get some measure of justice for his House and focus, like the rest of us, on to what threatens us most. The heat of his tone speaks for his recent loss, to which I am familiar with." He will continue to stand behind his peers, trying to ease a little if he can at all. There is only a subtle nod of his chin for the coolness of address that he earns from the Queen. For now it's just to help subjugate the anger in the room. The rest though, it appears that Ronan is quite inexperienced in these matters, so Aidan frowns as if he were seeing his own son. As the meeting is adjourned, he looks to the Queen and the Voice, the rest of council, and makes the appropriate gestures before he goes to take his leave.

Ronan is quiet for a long moment and other than a flicker of his gaze to Aidan, his attention is for the Queen as Laetitia speaks. He keeps his voice quite low as the others begin to file out, "Then you have my apology, Your Majesty. I do wish the union, if the King allows it. If you do. Ever since I have come here, I have been put off time and again, by all, but yourself. I should not doubt you and I do regret my angry words. We need our King. No one understands what he is doing." Aidan is far, far from being the only one who wants a drink. badly. "I will quiet and go back to waiting, Your Majesty." He falls silent as Aidan begins to speak up.

"No your Majesty, forgive me, I speak where I must not, however I would like to impart one last thing… please remember where your own thoughts were when such things occured," he does not allude to much more than that, but the Queen should know what he's speaking of. But, Aidan has taken too much time already to say as much. Now he goes, with a sure bow to the Queen. His hand has been played, too soon, much too soon. He shakes his head, nodding though to Ronan as he passes to encourage the lad to stand strong. He does spot Luna, her mouth agape, frowns once. Of course in doing that, he realizes that Eldan cannot depart so swiftly. "Need assistance, Baron?"

"Indeed Duke Kincaid. And when Duke Crawford is next pregnant and dealing with that on top of a Kingdom, I will feel sympathy arise in my chest for him." The Queen will state acidly.

Wenna opens her eyes and shakes her head at her husband when he offers her his arm and she murmurs softly to him.

Then when the queen speaks Wenna looks up at her and nods her head. She then looks at her brother as he leaves. She sits and waits for the others to leave first.

Wenna mutters to Caedmon, "… yet… I have… to… from…"

A tiny frown appears when Luna looks at the Queen, but her expression is quickly smoothed back to neutrality. She presses her palms together and dips her head to the crowd in general, then turns to leave with the others. One last look is sent over her shoulder toward Ronan, brow furrowed, before she steps out into the hallway.

Ronan doesn't say anything. He takes a seat as he was told to do and will wait, silent. He meets Aidan's gaze as his Uncle takes his leave but Ronan only looks tired, spirit dropped. He does not know the Priestess well and makesw no reation if he noticed her looking at himself oddly.

Eldan looks up at Aidan and nods his head, "Yes thank you Your Grace. If you could just bring my chair here and hold it steady, I can go from there." He shows no embarrassment for his situation, it is a simple fact of his life. Once his chair is in range, he can easily transfer himself from one surface to the next. He has a strong, burning desire to exit and get far from the current fallout. He gives a brief glance of sympathy to Ronan, but in truth… better him than Eldan.

Aidan considers the chair and strides over to get it. As suggested, he holds it steady and offers his arm or hand if Eldan needs it. Regardless of the Baron's state of body, it seems that Aidan is trying to be courteous and not leave the poor man stranded in the Council room.

Laetitia remains standing, hands spread on the table as she leans onto it, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Looks cast towards her? She's used to them. No, her gaze is for Ronan only. She will stare him down until everyone departs.

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