Alasair 29, 228: Family Affairs

Family Affairs
Summary: The Princess Roslin and the Prince Logen happen upon each other in the Salon. The arrival of their brother-in-law, Ruthgar Ruxton, makes the small event into a little family affair.
OOC Date: 16 September 2013
Related: Battle Royale and Brothers Banter 'Bout Broads
Logen Roslin Ruthgar 
A haven of serenity amidst the rush of the castle, the salon is designed as a place for relaxation or socialization. A hearty fire burns in the massive, marble fireplace, throwing a russet glow across the room. The walls are divided top from bottom with pale wooden paneling above and lapis marble with silver veins shot through it below. Several armchairs, a couch, and a loveseat are set around a beautiful table for an intimate tete-a-tete, the furniture finely made of deep mahogany wood with blue and silver cushions. An azure rug covers the center of the room, but at the edges the dark wood of the floor can be seen. A side table holds tea, coffee, wine and several small hors d'oeuvres, and desserts.
Alasair 29, 228

The Salon has a unique ability to be both a popular spot and also a space of solitude, depending on the time of day and the inclination of others in the Court. Today it seems to be the latter, and the room is fairly bare - a few gentleman talking in a corner, an old matron sleeping upright in her seat, and the Princess Roslin Kilgour, sitting in a wooden chair by the window with a perfectly straight posture. Her red hair adorns her head in her favored crown of braids, and the color she wears is a warm ochre pipped in red - reminiscent of summer, but also of the summer’s end and the fading of the fiery heat into the leaves of autumn. She does not, of course, sit alone. Aside from her guards, standing nearby, and a maid seated off against the wall, Roslin speaks with two young noble women. Both of good birth, family, and reputation, the trio seems to be having quite the time of it, laughing gaily as they chatter about this or that in soft, hushed tones while slowly stitching away. The embroidery, it is clear, is meant as an excuse for company.

Having spent much of the day yesterday training the soldiery, and having more planned for this afternoon. Logen is taking some time to relax and perhaps just enjoy his book. Another of his favorite writer's volumes, the prince happily takes up a seat in one of the high wing backed chairs, lifts ankle to knee and begins to the read. His trio of guards are now one guard for just being within the castle, and Deekes takes up position near the entry to the Salon to watch the goings on within.

Upon seeing the Prince, Roslin’s ladies all purse their lips into a frown, causing the redhead to look over her shoulder as well to see her brother there. Her own lips purse, equally. A few other words are shared, and Roslin nods to the girls, even reaching out to pat one on the hand. With a few more whispered words and some shufflings of expensive fabric on other expensive fabric, the two companions of the Princess rise and curtsey before making their own way across the Salon and out, their maids carrying their half-finished embroidery with them. Roslin now continues her own with methodical movements. “Brother,” she greets, her voice gentle - far more gentle than the last time they spoke, the now-infamous ‘Battle Royale’. “I did not expect to see you in the Salon on so fine a day.”

Looking up from his book, Logen's eyes fall on his sister and stay there for a moment. He offers a nod to her, “Sister. Just here to enjoy one of my favorite author's newest before I head out to the field to resume training of the soldiery.” He shifts so that his foot falls back to the floor, and his hand straightens the padded arming jacket that he wears. “And you are stuck inside as well, not interested in taking advantage for fine riding weather?” a gentle inquiry.

“The groom is working with my horse this morning,” Roslin explains. “And many of my normal riding partners are otherwise occupied. Besides, I have every intention of completing this embroidery for my dress for the first day of Alasair.” She pulls the string taught, as taught as the tension in the room at this moment happens to be. Or nearly so. “And what does your favorite author profess in the most recent tome?” She tilts her head, looking over at the man through her lashes just a bit, before turning her attention back to her delicate and exceptionally intricate embroidery.

Through the door enters a Ruxton. The Ruxton, Baron of Dellhaven. Wearing a casual attire of a tunic in black and red and black breeches, Ruthgar looks a bit thoughtful and casts a glance about the Salon as if in search for someone in particular. Spotting the princess his first urge seems to be to approach her for a polite greeting. But then he notices the prince and hesitates for a moment. It takes a fraction of a second and he has made up his mind, offering both a bow in greeting. “Your highnesses.“ A brief smile brushes his mien as his pale grey eyes flit to Roslin next. “I wonder… have you seen my wife?“ Then after casting a glance towards Logen he adds: “I hope I am not disturbing you.“

“In this book, the group has to continue on their quest to save the mystical elves from their own demise. The elven lands have a way of keeping people out with some strange barrier that feeds off their life force and that of the trees they inhabit. They won't listen though, because the world outside is at war and no one can attack them. It's a great story of dealing with stubborn people in the best possible way.” Logen explains, clearly enthralled with the story of the book, “While there is magic talked about, it's evil and destructive like we know it to be. And the people therein are always trying to quell the fires of such dissidence.” added after a moment's thought. “If I have time tomorrow morning, I would go for a ride with you if you'd like.” Ruthgar then gets a polite nod, and a “Greetings Baron, no disturbance for the time being.”

Roslin listens, keeping her face down as she intricately completes some manuver of the needle. “I am glad you have found something on which to focus your free energies,” she comments easily, conversationally. Another hook through the stitching is made. “Pray, how does one handle stubborn people according to the … elves, was it?” She looks over with a raised brow. If she was going to say more, she cannot - the Baron is here. He too earns a small smile of pleasure. “My dear Ruxton,” she says, nodding her head in his direction at his bow. “I have not seen Caillin this morning, but I confess that I have not been seeking her out. She is out of bed, then?” Roslin asks, looking with interest up at the man. She only breaks the gaze to nod to her guard, who moves to bring a chair for the man to sit. The placement of the chair is well-done - just between Roslin and Logen, but at an angle to form something of a triangle among all three of them.

While arching a brow at the unusual story Logen conveys, Ruthgar meets his greeting with a polite incline of his head, little as he may have to offer on the subject. Roslin’s inquiry gets a warmer response. “She is well enough, you highness. She was already better later that day.” Pale grey eyes shift once again to Logen, as if to gauge his curiosity. But then the Baron of Dellhaven accepts the offered seat with all appropriate gratitude. “How are you faring on this wonderful day?”, he inquires, his gaze moving from Roslin to Logen. “How is your dear wife, my Prince?”

“Well the main characters are humans, who are trying to convince the elves to give up this evil barrier they are using. They are choking the life from the world within the barrier and the heroes are trying to make them see this. I haven't gotten far enough to know how it ends though.” Logen replies before looking to Ruthgar, “So far today has started for me with a smile. I also found my favorite author had a new book printed and made sure to be the first to get to read it.” he smiles a bit at that, before smiling softly, “She is well, working on putting together her sewing circle I believe. She is also helping the Baroness Blackforge in the infirmary. She is a healer after all.” he pauses, then adds, “And are you doing well Baron?”

“So you do not yet know if they are in fact heroes,” Roslin observes, lowering her sewing for a moment. The topic moves, though, and she moves with it, turning her head once more to regard the Baron. “I fare well enough, Baron, though I wonder how many wonderful days such as these we may have ahead of us - each day, wonderful as it may seem, seems more and more tainted with the blackness of this unhappy war. Still, I am happy to know that Caillin is feeling better.” She sits back, then, letting the Baron respond to her brother’s question without overwealming him with more. Instead, she turns to her servant. “Wine,” she orders, gently enough and with a quiet tone. The servant nods and bustles off to find a pitcher and three cups.

Ruthgar's gaze shifts towards the windows while Logen continues his strange account, whether the Ruxton does listen or not or just lets his thoughts wander off for a moment, is up for speculation. The prince's remark about Caitlyn has him turn his head though, and lower his gaze with approval. “She is a healer? An honourable profession. I would very much like to meet your wife, your highness. As I fear what one hears about her, cannot do her justice.” The voice devoid of any mockery, indeed, as his pale grey gaze comes to linger on Logen. “I am well, thank you.”, he replies next, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “How could I be other than well, graced with a wife like your sister?”

Then the Ruxton turns his attention to Roslin, nodding gravely as she mentions the threat of the impending war. “It's a subject that troubles Caillin deeply. Whereas I will do what will be required, of course.”, he replies matter-of-factly, folding his hands before him. “One does not become a Knight of the Rioga to shy away from battles.”

“Yes, Caitlyn is a healer. She's been one for a long long time, she was a sickly child for much of her life. A gracious old man and naturalist healer nursed her to health and taught her all she knows, which is a considerable amount.” Logen explains before nodding to Ruthgar, with a smile. He makes no further comment about Caillin, however, and instead turns to the war, “I have much work to do in regards to this very war. I've been spending day in and out developing strategies to protect the people and many are already in the works. I have spent a great amount of time drilling the soldiers and training them to fight with various blades as well as give lecture on tactics. We will be more than ready for a fight should it come to that.” And there is indeed confidence in his eyes, being known as one of the greatest swordsman and tacticians in Mobrin.

Roslin looks to her brother, though she does not say much on the topic. Instead, she turns her attention back to Ruthgar, nodding her head respectfully to him. “We are all confident that you shall do your family, my sister, and the Rioga proud, sir.” The cups are brought, poured and distributed to those who are interested in taking a taste. Roslin, it appears, is so inclined, and she takes a cup after smoothing her embroidery out in front of her. “I have heard good things about your abilities already,” she adds, apparently to the Ruxton. “Our countryside will be safer for the swords of good, honorable, and well-trained men as yourself to protect it.” She lifts her cup then, gently toward the men. “Perhaps then we may drink to Mobrin, and the strong men, clever women, and Godliness of our dear home.”

Ruthgar inclines his head to Logen’s explanation about Caitlyn’s past, his mien respectful enough. He takes a sip from one of those offered cups of wine, returning that toast of Princess Roslin “To Mobrin!”, before he remarks towards the prince: “I find it quite remarkable that you would do that. Train soldiers. I would have thought you above of all that” - he gestures with his hand. “I was wrong obviously. And I see,” he hesitates, a smile suddenly emerging through that unmoving facade of his - “that you do indeed have something in common with your sister Caillin.” He shakes his head, his brows raising a little. “Still there will be always a difference between us and them. They need our good example, your highness. Or the commoners will start to believe they can indeed surpass us, both in their abilities and in virtue. A dangerous thing if you ask me.”
Such a long speech, and even the Ruxton seems to be surprised at it. He seems about to add more when a servant enters the Salon, a young lad with a freckled face and a livery that seems not adequate for his long limbs. It does not take long and he has glimpsed Ruthgar sitting in that fateful triangle with the Royals, and after a nervous cough into his hand, the servant moves closer, to lean over to the Ruxton to convey a message uttered at a discrete low volume. The Baron's eyes flit downwards as he listens attentively, brows moving upwards in an apologetic expression as he rises from his seat at the next moment. “Excuse me, your highnesses. It seems my Caillin has returned and requires my presence.” He offers a fluid bow of farewell. “It has been pleasant talking to you, alas, I must be off.”

The cup of wine is looked at, but the prince politely requests that it be replaced with water. When the new cup is brought for him, Logen partakes with the other two in their toast. He looks to Ruthgar, “I am to be my brother's sword and shield when the time comes for him to rule. I am not above the fight, I do not stand apart from the soldiers on the battlefield. If I am to lead them one day to fight and potentially die, how can they trust a leader they do not know? How can they give their hearts to the fight if they do not acknowledge that their leader knows what is best? By training the men, I show them that I do know what I'm talking about, I prove to them that I am worthy of their respect and trust and dedication. They can see for themselves that my plans are good ones and will march to war with confidence and pride that their leader isn't making up things as he goes along.” Logen drinks again from his water, finishing it actually. He stands then, bowing slightly to them both even as the boy enters to speak with Ruthgar. “I have need to go now to those very men and work with them on their formations and command meanings. I wish you both a fine day.” with that, the prince will take the step around his chair and make his way from the room.

Roslin takes her own wine, sipping it as the men both make their escapes. She nods to each of them, and watches them go. Only then, at last, does the girl reach for her wine cup again and take another long sip.

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