Nar 06, 228: Matters of War and Justice

Matters of War and Justice
Summary: People discuss about the war, for which they must be prepared.
OOC Date: 09/07/2013 (OOC)
Related: {$related}
Players:
Tyrel Laetitia Caillin Ciarrah Caedmon Robben Cedric Harmon Ruthgar Victoria 
Throne Room
The feature of the Throne Room of Darfield Castle that draws most eyes immediately is the magnificent throne, raised on a dais at the far end of the room. The Kilgour Family coat of arms, passed down from father to son through the centuries, occupies a place of honor above the royal throne.
A rug of purple softens the path across the white marble floor, swirling patterns picked out in glinting silver thread. To each side of the rug, stand tall silver vases of Stargazer Lilies and Irises, their heady scent drifting through the air. The cool marble walls have been draped with mingling swathes of purple and silver silk, with touches of white for smooth contrast. Set about the room, tall silver candelabras hold long purple tapers, their soft glow gleaming on the rug and silks. On the balcony above, more swathes of purple and silver silk have been draped, shimmering with a scattering of silver glitter. More glitter is dusted across the marble floor, and over the soft petals of the flowers.
Nar 6th, 228

The Throne Room of Darfield castle is nearly empty. It is time for to hold court, and outside the large doors of the room, there are dozens of nobles, and even a few wealthy commoners, along with a criminal who is being tried for stealing eggs. Most of the talk is about war. Everyone knows of the invasion of Weston by now. On the Dais, Tyrel is standing next to the throne and leaning on its massive side. Also on the dais, seated near the throne is Princess Caillin. Having just entered the room is Lord Caedmon. He is approaching the throne as Tyrel calls out to him, "Lord Caedmon. You are right on time. Have you seen my mother?" He looks beyond the man at the empty room, then back to him. "My mother is late." He says in a flat tone, before motioning to Caillin, "But my sister, who is usually late…" he winks at her, "…was early." Tyrel then looks toward the guard in the back, "Find Lord Ruxton, and Duke Crawford. Bring them in." The guard gives a nod and turns out the doors, leading to the foyer, to find the mentioned people.

Caillin sits straight, with a warm smile in her bright face. Even if a serious talk waits, she just can't make disappear the thing, with which she was born. Smile is offered for everyone, who is inside the room, and it becomes even more wide, when her beloved cousin comes inside.
The words from her brother's lips bring a slight reddish colour to girl's cheeks and she chuckles, hidding one flaxen curl behind her ear.
Caillin's purple gown with wide sleeves is very elegant. The dress is close-fitting with the plunging neckline, decorated with a small line of golden jewels. The garment is very tigt near the waist and has the cords of the prominent lacing in the bustier area. However, the first thing what a curious look can catch is incredibly small, but vivid patterns on the light pleated skirt layered with a black veil.
Girl doesn't say a word, just listens and waits.

Caedmon pauses in midstride and bows deeply to the heir apparent. "Your highness," he greets in a deep, resonant voice. "Her Majesty's handmaiden informed me that Her Majesty should be here soon." He looks toward Caillin when the man indicates her, and bows to his other dear regal cousin, and offers her a brief but warm smile. Then he adds with a smile, "She is often one to offer pleasant surprises, your highness, and in times such as these, we should welcome pleasantness where we find it." He turns to a scribe who is walking behind him, and takes a case of papers from the man before dismissing the man and finding his place.

It would seem that the guard didn't have to go for long before he found the Ruxton heir, as Robben steps in through the doors and moving a bit to the side to look around the room a bit carefully now. He's dressed in clothes in the Ruxton colors, looking a bit thoughtful as his gaze moves around.

Tyrel nods to Caedmon, "Yes, I am sure she will be along." He speaks of his mother as he begins to pace in front of the throne. Suddenly, he stops, looking to Caedmon, "What cases are in order for today, Caed?" He calls him by a nickname he has heard his father use before. He looks at the man expectantly. He notices Lord Ruxton enter, and motions him down toward the throne. "Come in Lord Ruxton, we are to discuss the war in court today, I wanted to hear any news you have heard before we let in the rabble." He laughs.

Caillin straightens fabric of her skirt, swaying very slowly and almost unseen in her seat. She watches her brother and others, just listening.

Without great fanfare the Queen makes her appearance, maidens at her side as they piteously try to get her to not enter, her hair is not finished! But in the Queen comes, brushing off her ladies with an errant wave of her hand as she strides in towards the Big Girl Chair, golden locks of hair down and flowing over her shoulders and down her back, lightly curled and only two pieces pinned back at her temples. Not as ornate as she usually is, but in these times one has to give up some luxuries when time is pressed, "Lets begin - " She's not going to apologize. She's not late, /you're/ all early. How dare you. Turning about she will settle in on her seat and shift back, back high and proud, no smile present on her lips but her green eyes are soft. The Queen is in a fair mood.

Sporting a deep grean claok and durable looking clothes that look more functional than elegant enters Harmon. He is absent any escort and pauses in the entrance of the throne room, his gaze drifting around appraisingly, before commiting any further and approaching the others. With the arrival of the Queen his attention is given to her first once closer, a deep and respectful bow, "My Queen." he says softly still bowing before straightening his posture, clasping his hands behind his back.

Robben makes his way forward a bit more, before he pauses at the Queen's entrance, and he bows as well, but keeping quiet for the moment. Straightening a bit again as he looks around a bit carefully now.

Victoria sweeps in after Harmon, moments later, so that while he may have come in unescorted he doesn't remain so for long. The tall darkhaired Huntress will curtsey deeply to the queen and all others present before straightening and following Harmon, staying far enough so as not to be all weird and clingy to him, but close enough that she can make sure his boundaries are respected. You know. His man bubble.

Caedmon bows in his place to Tyrel, and then to Caillin. "Your highnesses, we have two matters of law to bring for your consideration. One is a petty matter, a peasant accused of poaching eggs from a local landlord. The second is more significant. A lady, Baroness Wenna Meredith Riverwynd has entreated the throne to grant an annulment of her marriage to Baron Fallon Riverwynd of Blackforge on the grounds of barrenness. With your indulgence, your highness, I recommend that we send for the relevant parties and their witnesses to appear here to testify before the throne renders a decision." He bows in conclusion.

Tyrel raises both brows at Caedmon, "An anullment?" He glances toward his mother as she enters, "Aah, mother, so grand of you to join us." He grins, "Please, please, come in." He then looks back to Caedmon, "Did she verify to you why she would be in need of anullment? What sort of heinous crimes has Baron Riverwynd comitted that would warrant such an act? To call for anullment? Hrm?" As he is speaking, he glances toward the Count who has entered, narrowing his eyes a moment as he looks him over. Well, at least he isn't with that naked common woman. He glances back to Caedmon for his response, and just as he does, here comes Victoria. His eyes narrow again, as he watches her enter, before a curious glance is given toward the Count. Yet, he makes no comment, merely looking back to the Chancellor.

When the Queen comes inside the room, Caillin weaves in her seat for a few seconds, likely, from the wish to hug her mother, but she is in the court and has to hold in all her feelings. She is a Princess, big Princess now and has to look serious.
Caillin bites her bottom lip slightly and continues observing everyone, examining each of them, who comes, and listening for these, who already came. When Caedmon mentions the peasant, Caillin silently gasps, covering her lips with one hand. Her intent gaze starts looking for a poor man, obviously, trying to know if this is the one, she already know. From all her stance is quite obivious, she will be the one, who would like to help for the poor man.
However, after mentioning another woman, curious glance finds Caedmon again and Princess, peeking at her mother, a little bit gingerly asks "Is it that woman I met?" voice of the Princess betreys, that she was impressed by the one called Wenna.

Queen Laetitia doesn't seem to horrified by the eggs bit, as soon as Caedmon mentions it she lifts a hand up from the arm of the chair to wave her fingers lightly in the air near her cheek before soft hand cups the flesh and she presses her thumb to her bottom lip. However at the issue of annulment a slender brow will raise, green eyes darkening just a bit. gaze will flicker to her sons as she nods her in head slightly in approval of his questions, the very same that were on her mind, "Barrenness? Her own?" A light pinch of her browline inwards as she looks to Caedmon, "Yes, please give us the details you currently have before we deign to send out for further witness. It may be something that can be resolved sans having to do any such thing."

Listening carefully now, Robben removes where he is, studying the various people present at the moment. His expression might seem a bit distant at the moment, as he listens to what's being said, at least parts of his mind seems to be somewhere else, perhaps.

The doors to the Throne room are opened as Cedric Duke of Crawford is escorted by some of the royal guards. "Yes..yes I know you were summoned to get me, Sir! " as the Duke seems a bit upset, "I was busy dealing with internal matter of Sutherland, that didn't give you reason to go busting down my door and disrupting what I was doing.!" he seems quite cross as he walks across the threshold and stops at the door, thankful to have his job concluded so that he can get out of the lime light. Cedric adjusts his clothing, mostly his jacket which appears to have been hastily dones. He steps up and Bows to both Tyrel and the Queen, "My appologies but I was .." he sighs. "dealing with matters of state and sending off dispatchs as fast as I could get them written and signed and .. well you know. " he seems to do his best to ignore the varied looks sent his way as he keeps his composure.

Caedmon bows toward the three royals again, and then stands stiffly, fixing his eyes on them while he answers the Queen's request. "Your majesty, I have heard only from the baroness in this matter. Although she has voiced some discontent, including claims that the Baron has been abusive and unfaithful to her. The baron and baroness have been married for eight years without producing an heir. On that ground, the baroness pleads barrenness as grounds for the annulment. However, majesty and highnesses, I believe that you would prefer to hear direct testimony from all witnesses to such a grave matter as an annulment of a noble marriage that stands on the ultimate authority of the royal house."

Tyrel looks across to his mother as she speaks, before looking back to Caedmon. As he offers an answer, he furrows his brow. "Barrenness?" He ponders for a moment as his finger pinch his lips, his gaze going to his feet as he paces. He then looks to his mother again, then back to Caedmon, "Very well. I suppose you have the orders drawn up for me?" He motions with his hand, and giving a single nod as well, "Warm the wax. We will order a summons to this Lord to speak on this anullment."

Caillin proudly sits in front of all these people, beside her mother and brother. She listens carefully what is said. The girl tries to learn from these two people, how to handle all the matters, because someday she will become Queen and will have to do the same. For this reason it is very iportant to hear everything, remember everything. However, still, young Princess can not concentrate her attention for too long and her grey eyes slip through the room, examining people clothes, who is whispering for who and what is happening in background in general. Quite often her gaze find Caedmon and wide smile flashes in her eyes.

Robben listens quietly for now, expression still just as thoughtful as before, from where he's standing. He doesn't say anything now, but it seems clear that he is paying attention, at least.

Laetitia nods her head as she listens, settling back in her chair, hand dropping away from her face to rest back on the armrest of the seat, fingertips lightly twitching in time with some silent tune in her head. Or the imaginary stranglings of people. But for the sake of brevity lets say it's a tune.

The chancellor reaches for the case before him on the table and opens it. He withdraws several documents and bows to Prince Tyrel. "I have, your highness," he confirms. "Summons for Baron Fallon Riverwynd of Blackforge and any wwitnesses that he wishes to present," he announces, and lays one piece of parchment on the table. "Summons for Baronness Wenna Riverwynd of Blackforge and any wwitnesses that she wishes to present." He looks up from the sheets. "Both indicate that they must appear in the presence of the royal family within one month, if not sooner." He signals to a servant who brings a burning candle to the table. "The wax is ready." He announces.

Tyrel moves down the steps of the dais, and over to the royal table. He takes the candle and pours some on the bottom portion of each document. He then takes the royal seal and makes the impression on each parchment. He then hands the seal back to Caedmon before moving back to the dais. He moves to the front of the his fathers throne, and looks over those assembled. He then motions to the guards at the back of the room, "Open the doors. Bring them in." He says, of the other nobles who are in the foyer.

The doors to the Throne Room are opened, and various nobles, lords and ladies, and a handful of Knights enter the room, filling both sides but leaving an aisle down the middle. Members of the great houses fill in the front, near the throne, while others stand closer toward the back. The Knights stand close as well, lining the aisle way. As people enter, a trumpeter plays a regal tune to announce the beginning of court.

Among the first to be admitted now through the doors is Lord Ruthgar Ruxton. When he enters the Throne Room, his pale grey eyes seem to focus on his elder brother Robben first, and he hesitates, the corners of his mouth twitching a little, before he joins him. "Any news on what is happening back home?" he finally mutters, casting his brother a quick sideways glance, while he offers a bow in reverence to the Royalty assembled.

"Some. Not too much of it good so far," Robben replies quietly to his brother, while still keeping most of his attention on Tyrel at the moment. "I expect His Highness will want a report very soon." Letting out a bit of a breath now.

As the room fills up, Tyrel approaches the front of the dais. The occupants fall quiet, and the Prince speaks, "War!" He shouts this single word across the room, and immediately people begin to murmer, not a murmer of shock, but a murmer of 'told ya so.' Tyrel raises his hands toward the crowd and the fall silent.

As the room fills up, Tyrel approaches the front of the dais. The occupants fall quiet, and the Prince speaks, "War!" He shouts this single word across the room, and immediately people begin to murmer, not a murmer of shock, but a murmer of 'told ya so.' Tyrel raises his hands toward the crowd and they fall silent. "We are at war! Weston has been invaded. Westgate has fallen. Laniveer has nearly crushed Jadda, and now they turn their sites toward us! But… we will not be conquered!" A few whoops and shouts come out to affirm the words of Tyrel. He smiles, though only briefly, "By royal decree, I hereby declare war on Laniveer, in response to their outrageous attack on our ally and vassal, Duke Sir Jon Marshall Ruxton, of the Duchy of Weston. The King and his house hereby calls four-fifths of all armed men, soldiers, and Knights of all vassals, banners, and houses in the Kingdom of Mobrin. It is so ordered, that all vassals, banners, and houses respond immediately to this calling of arms. All armies should be ready to march into Weston within one week. Those who do not respond to the call to arms shall be viewed as rebels of the Kingdom, and shall have their titles stripped and shall live in exile until the end of days. So it is, and so it shall be." He nods in affirmative before moving toward the throne. He takes a seat as the murmuring grows into a louder roar of nobles talking amongst themselves of war. Tyrel then motions to Caedmon, giving him a quick nod, telling him to continue.

Caedmon stands again behind his table and surveys the assembled nobles. "My Lords!" he calls. "Before we can march, we must know what our straights are, and what we must do to prepare. To that end, I call on each of you to give a report to the crown of the readiness of your vassels and your common people. I call on you to inform the crown also of any difficulties that might delay your compliance with the royal decree that we have heard. First to report should be Duke Jon Marshall Ruxton, of House Ruxton." He looks to Robben and gestures with his hand for the duke to stand before the royal dais and address both the royal family and the crowd.

Ruthgar stares at Prince Tyrel, his face unmoving although a cold fire seems to burn within those grey eyes of his. One of his hands clenches into a fist when Tyrel speaks of his father, the Duke of Weston, and his gaze finally drops before it can arouse any irritation with its almost impertinent stare. "This is bad indeed," comes his comment in a low grumble. "I would rather we'd march tomorrow. A week? Do you think father will hold out for another week, brother?" His voice is still subdued, almost a hiss, as Ruthgar looks to Robben waiting for some sort of reply, at least some words of assurance. But then Robben is called forth by the chancellor to give a report, and the younger Ruxton realizes he will have to wait a bit for an answer - at least for a personal one. And so he stands where he is, folding his hands before him, almost as curious for that official report of his brother as the rest in the Throne Room probably are.

"He will have to," Robben replies a bit darkly to Ruthgar, nodding a little at what's being said now. Looking about to say something more, before he hears his name called. Taking a few deep breaths, he moves forward, expression quite neutral now. "Your Highness," he begins, a polite nod both to Tyrel and the other members of the Royal Family present. "My Father reports that the City of Weston is being prepared for a defense, and the Legions have been mobilized, with the Second moving for the City to meet up with the First there. The Third is waiting to join our forces as we go from here." Another brief pause, as he takes a few deep breaths, before he continues. "It's been said that estimates has put the Laniveer forces at about one hundred thousand men. There's also reports of the Castle of Westgate having fallen and that it is now in ruin."

Having been dealing with a few last minute missives in the Office of the Ambassador, Ciarrah is finally arriving to the meeting through the back of the room, not the usual entrance. She makes her way quietly to the dais where she quietly takes her seat, placing a parchment onto the table before clasping her hands together and listening to the proceedings. When Robben comes to speak, her attention resides on the Ruxton.

Tyrel reaches down as Ciarrah enters and puts the paper on the desk. He reads over the sheet, then smiles, nodding to her, before his gaze falls on Robben. As he speaks, Tyrel listens, offering an occasional nod. When the Lord says 'five thousand' the Prince looks at him incredulously, shaking his head, "One hundred thousand?!" He can't believe it. He glances toward Caedmon as if expecting the Chancellor to deny the report.

Caedmon listens to the report and does raise his eyebrows when the Robben reports such enormous forces. "Lord Roxton, what means did you use to arrive at that figure? Have the Laniveer augmented their won force with those of their recent enemies? Also, you report that Castle Westgate lies in ruin. You must have received word since the last meeting of the full council, when we heard that the castle was in danger, but had not fallen yet. More recent reports are often better reports if they come well confirmed from several sources. Why was this not brought before his highness sooner?"

"I only report what the missive from my Father said, my lord," Robben replies to Caedmon, his voice kept rather calm for the moment. "And yes, I have received word since the last meeting of the council. The one reason it was not brought before his highness sooner is…" A gesture around at the room. "That his highness has been here in this room, and busy since I received word from home. The missive arrived less than an hour ago, after all." He looks around the room, gaze stopping on his brother for a few moments, before he looks back to Tyrel and Ciarrah, offering the Princess a polite nod now, since she just arrived.

Whatever news had reached Ruthgar so far, the numbers his brother reports to the Kilgour Prince has his usually cold grey eyes widen a touch. But for now he keeps quiet, his gaze shifting a little restlessly from the Prince to the Ruxton heir, proceeding to the chancellor as he speaks. Until his gaze returns to Robben, eyeing him intently as Ruthgar awaits his reply.

Caedmon inclines his head to Robben and frowns. "An hour before this meeting? THat is grave news indeed." He sighs and loosk with sympathy at the man. "We will be aiding your people soon," he assures. He scans the crowd and gestures to Cedric. "Duke Crawford, We should hear from you also about your status, but first …" Then his eyes drift to Caillin, who has sat patiently through so much talk of war. He bows his head to her and requests, "Your highness, the troops that go will need help for their bodies and souls. I know that you have been busy with organizing our healers and priests. You also have arranged for supplies to follow the troops forward. Please tell us about these efforts. They should give courage to those who march bravely to the north."

When finally lord Chancellor addresses to the Princess Caillin, she very calmly and proudly leans back in her seat. Fingers elegantly are dancing on her knees. Some people in the crowd starts whisper, likely something about why such important matters are trusted for such a young princess, who even can't face the marriage of her brother.

However, the answer quickly reaches people's ears. The voice of the princess is firm and self-confident. This is the matters she knows the best.

"Well, I am not sure how huge this war will be," states Caillin adding "and how many healers will be in need. The ravage of the war is unpredictable…" girl stops for a moment, that all the people could note it and she continues in a louder voice "I did not wanted to think about the worst end of the war. Moreover, there is no need to frighten people for now," the shake of her head is given "Actually, I had to deal with the fear of some people already. This is the reason why it is hard to find a good healers, who wouldn't say, that the war is far away right now and he or she has family, children or his knowledge still is not ready to face the war…"

Her grey eyes find Tyrel and her mother for a few seconds, but quickly she addresses everyone "I hope you understand the fact, that common people are human beings too. They can be afraid. For this reason I tried to find solution," Caillin more proudly raises her chin "I talked with six healers, who have the best experiance in this matter and of course, they are the only one willing to go to the war and help as much as it will be needed. However, if we will face worse ravage, than I am hoping, I met with Priests and they asured me, that they will send as much people as possible, who will be helpers for our healers if needed, because some of the priests and priestess has some healing experiance too. Of course, we can force people to gather their things and go by order. However, I couldn't trust such people fully, that they will not leave their posts… Moreover, we may face the lack of potions, because we can't rejoice at the amount of specific resourses, which are needed for healers, as they say. This problem may be related to the next issue…"

After this message girl's expression changes. Smile fades and is changed by worry and girl sighs "Talking about supplies I can't bring too much good news. I hope you all saw that this year we have too much rain than it's needed. So, the fertility is low. A lot of fruits and vegetables as grains roted away. However, people tries their best. Though, if the war last for a longer time than month, we may be in need of help in this matter… Depends on the amount of troops…" thoughtfully finishes young Princess and raises her finger to emphasise "Everything what I said, depends on numbers, which will be braught by the war. So, more specific information of what we may lack, will be seen after some more time… But we should have in mind… We should have…"

Tyrel nods once at the confirmation of the report from Robben's father. He accepts the information from the Lord. He begins to look at Cedric, but turns instead toward Caillin. He rests his chin in his hand, a finger pointed upward as he listens quietly. His gaze drifts for a moment toward Ciarrah, then back to his sister as she speaks. He listens intently, and a brow raises when she mentions the 'priestess.' He then furrows his brow at the thought. When the Princess is finished, "Very good, sister. You seem to be on top of things." He raises his hand now, holding up his index finger, "However, women do not march to war. You mentioned these priestess'? They shall not come. We will take all the priests and their male helpers. Any healers that are men that will march with us, we will readily take along and provide food and protection as best as possible."

Having waited until Princess Caillin was done Cedric stands up and says in a loud enough voice to carry clear to the back of room. "Well Your highness's and Magesty ( as he address's tyrel, Caillin and the Queen) Its a good thing we were already planning war games with Sutherlands forces. They were partialy mobilized arleady and in a short while depending on how fast the couriers can reach them they will be on the moves, I will be sending nearly my entire force to aid in this battle Twenty four thousand four hundred seventy five brave souls to fight."

"Breaking that down into indivual units That comes to Twelve Thousand of the light calvary, which is composed of lancesr and horse archers. In equal parts, Then I have my Six thousand Heavy Infanty, followed by an equal number of Foot archers. Rounding out those forces are half my Knights Seventy five in all, and half the Rangers and Squires another four hundred troops Of which I'll be presonaly taking command of. as Im sure all are aware that our rangers are good at doing what must be done without getting spotted and caught. My Generals will lead their own forces and once They've crossed in to Darfield I'll move to meet them at the Darfield and Weston border before we then go into battle."

Robben nods a little as he listens, before he makes his way back to where he was standing before, next to his brother. Letting out a bit of a sigh as he listens to what's being said at the moment.

Tyrel nods toward Cedric as he speaks. When the Duke is finished, the Prince smiles at him, "Thank you, Duke Crawford. Your men should be a formidable foe come day of reckoning." He gives a quick nod of his head toward Caedmon at this point, "Lord Caedmon, we have word from Lakeshire. They also have raised their arms and are moving to meet with us near Weston. Word has yet to come from Greenshire or Sky Forest, but I am sure they will comply. Count Forrester has assured me of his compliance, and I am sure House Haravean will do the same." He looks toward the gathered nobles, "We will win this fight, and we will drive these oppressors out of our lands and away from our cities." He then looks back to Caedmon, "Any other business on this matter of war?"

Caedmon stands and bows to the assembled nobles. "I thank all of you for your reports. We need all of the information that we can attain in order to know where we are strong, and where we need to build. Please continue to provide such information whenever you receive it, so that all are aware of the true state of affairs." Turning to the dais, he bows once more. Your highness, I am sure that you already have Princess Ciarrah's report. However, if there is any information that she can share that might help these men, I urge her to share it, whether here or at another time." He bows specifically to thenewst member of the royal family before he adds, "I have one recommendation further, your highness. While reviewing information during the night, I came upon old legends of a chain of islands where most of the people are accomplished healers, and have learned techniques that we lack. If those legends are even partially true, we should investigate this, and seek alliance with the people of that place, to learn if they would ally with us."

With nothing more to input, all of the subjects of import covered, Ciarrah looks to the Prince and gives an ever slight nod of her head before rising to address. "I have already given the report to Prince Tyrel. My father has heard rumors from visitors of the possibilities of war on the mainland. He already sent the five warships with Captains and crew. All he asks of you is a Skipper for each, so that they might train them for when the other five are finished being built. The ships are armed and ready. Also, in an act of faith and support, he has already sent troops over and they will be arriving with the warships."

Tyrel purses his lips at Caedmons comments, then nods toward Ciarrah as she speaks, motioning toward the table, "Yes, we are thankful of our Aberdeen allies." He glances toward Ciarrah with a reassuring smile, then looks back to Caedmon as he mentions the island of healers. "Healers you say? What sort of… healers? This isn't witchcraft is it?"

"Some books do mention witchcraft, your highness," Caedmon admits, "but those books also report witchcraft here, in our very land where we know that it is not. So I know that those are of no consequence. Now, there are other books, from men who have born reliable witness, as even I can attest. Those attest that these healers use recipes like our own, in many cases exactly the same except for a difference of one or two ingredients - not magic but the herbs and animals that grow only in that land, just as certain varieties of herbs grown only in one part or another of this land." He looks keenly at Tyrel and adds, "If this is witchcraft, then all of the aslant is full of it according to the records. Almost everyone in the land knows some healing and use of herbs. If all are witches, then we should fear them."
Sudeenly, a page bursts into the room. His eyes geow huge when he sees the royal family, but Caedmon turns to see him, and motions him forward. "What is your business?"
The page bows low, and then answers in a small voice, "I come with news for Duke Crawford." Caedmon nods to Cedric, and invites, "There he is. Deliver your news."

Cedric intercpts the page and is handed a letter and looks up to the royal family. Cedric then bows and smiels. "My appologices but I must deal with this. " as he turns and heads out the page already quite a ways ahead of him. He slips thru the doors as they close behind him.

Tyrel nods to Caedmon at his words, "Very well. You setup negotiations with them. I trust you can handle this, Lord Caedmon?" He nods once to affirm his own question, then stands from his dais, "Now then. With the case of the egg poacher." He glances to the man at the side who has been shackled and waiting patiently this entire time. "Two days in the stocks for him. Next time he is caught stealing food, he will lose one of his hands." His word is final. He doesn't flinch at the severity of the punishment, instead, he looks to his mother. "Do you have it?" Queen Laetitia nods, and Tyrel approaches her, retrieving a scrolled parchment.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License