Thedor 20, 229: Quackerpult vs Bathlista

Quackerpult vs Bathlista
Summary: A meeting of the Minds. Or the suggestions thereof. Three days hence, there will be another meeting.
OOC Date: 20 January 2014
Related: None yet. Wait three days.
Callem Nima Tyrel 
Dining Hall
A high ceiling with a central grand chandelier in sparkling gold oversets a large dining table. There is a marble hearth at one side of the room, providing for hot tea and warmth, even to some of the other rooms in the Royal Suite. The table can seat up to sixteen comfortably, though it often enough does not reach those limits. The furniture is made of the most expensive red cherry wood, chairs decorated with golden cushions embroidered with a variety of themes. A large matching buffet and hutch rests against one wall, holding crystal ware, fine china and silverware, as well as anything else that might be required. Several side tables hold decorations, that change with the seasons. Doors lead to each of the Royal Suites, as well as out to the landing. A small unobtrusive servants' door also can be found, though it's nearly hidden amid the understated elegance that makes up this room.
Thedor 20, 229

It is the small hours of the morning. Time when only the guards and the royals are stirring. There are things that can only be accomplished in those hours of near darkness…like getting to the baths without being mobbed by those who wish to ask favors, ask questions, make inquiries, argue, critique, placate, everything…

Tyrel slips from his room, his guards moving to follow quietly. Even on a trip to the baths the Crown Prince is armed and armored, the sole indication of his destination, his carved wooden duckie. He pauses, there are more in the hall than expected…

Unlike other wooden duckies, Tyrel's is equipped with a small balista.


As vibrantly dressed as always, Nima is wearing the colors of her house, the aquamarine sari/saree (depending on what spelling you use) forming to her curves, though the sheer overlay making it modest. The material is trimmed in gold and the bangles at her wrists make a muted sound as she moves her hands. Around her upper arms are serpentine coils, gold in color, a contrast to her olive skin. Her dark hair is kept back in a long braid down her back and impossibly light blue eyes regard those around her as they pass her by.

Accompanying the Kundari princess is her handmaid Syri as well as two guards, all dressed in the bright colors the Kundari are used to. Upon noticing the Crown Prince, Syri is the first to curtsy, bringing Nima's attention there. She follows suit as the guards bow to him. "Your Highness."


The Crown Prince is followed in his path by two observing, curious, and only slightly narrowed dark eyes. Perhaps it is the carved wooden duck the one to steal so much interest from Callem Kilgour, King of Mobrin, Lord of Darfield and Knight of the Golden Grifin, who enjoys ice tea and a few desserts. A few tarts and a cake, an apple cake, rests pleasantly on his plate. The hand of the man never leaves the glass, even when the gentle caress of his fingers could have suggested it at any moment to an observant one.

"A fine work of art, my son. A worth companion of the Future King of this Realm." Tilting the cup, as it were a toast, and with a wide smile that shows only warmth along with the tease of his voice, Callem salutes Tyrel as he passes. "I am glad to see you. I think I owe you better words than the last I casted to you. However, I can only hope to not interrupt something more important." The duck receives a quick glance and a smirk.

"Princess Nima." He greets just by the time she arrives, standing up from his chair to offer an appropriate bow for someone of the royalty. "Today has proved to be a day of fair and glad surprises. May I have the honor to enjoy a meal with you both Highnesses?"


Tyrel carries his duck under his arm in the manner one would a helm, his mallard of war lending a a solemn sense of the surreal as he lifts his other hand and nods in response to the greetings. "Father, Princess Nima." He looks down to his duck and smiles slightly, "An entertainment, though not one for the breakfast table…at least not in good taste and polite company. I had not expected to encounter anyone this early." He looks to the table then sets his bathlista aside, "I've been thinking of commissioning another, a quackerpult, but I've not found the artisan who can hear the request without excusing himself to laugh in the halls." He offers to hold Nima's seat before sitting himself.


The duck finally catches Nima's attention and as she watches the Prince carry it, amusement reaches her eyes though she remains quiet about it, not wishing to be seen as laughing at the Crown Prince. Surely wars have been started over less! In the Dining Hall, Nima approaches and offers the King a curtsy as well, followed by her entourage. Syri moves to the wall to watch over her charge as the guards post themselves near enough if needed though to afford some privacy. Marginal.

"I would be honored, Your Majesty, I have been meaning to meet with you again since our return. I have a bit of news to offer to you, though I admit it is nothing so pleasant." Once the prince assists her into her chair, she takes it, offering him a warm smile of thanks just before offering the verbal words. "Your Highness, thank you, truly."

Settled now, she places her hands on her lap, yet she does not lead the conversation, leaving it to the King or the Prince, not wishing to interrupt the two should they have important business dealings to attend before her own less important news.


"News are not always meant to be pleasant, Your Highness. But if they are worth of your time, I am here to listen to all you wish to share with us. I only hope I did not make you wait." Callem looks at Nima, his eyes trying to know more about it, trying to take it from hers, but it is only part of his never-ending curiosity and the natural worry of the times that have been coming. Also, and as if they were predicting his signal, the servants are quick to offer the Princess many varieties of wine and desserts, while meat and salad are also available at the table.

"A Duckapult is something I look forward to see, myself. I think that my personal craftsmen will agree to your wishes - though you must spare their lives if they find it too amusing to let it be shown." The King adds to his son, inviting him with a gesture to join them.


Tyrel takes the seat once Nima has her place, "I've yet to order a craftsman's death for their being amused. Or anyone else that comes to mind for similar reason." He looks to Nima, "Do give us that news you wished, Nima." He reaches for some of the foodstuffs and searches through the bottles until he finds some mead, or if not calls for some.


"Indeed, Your Majesty, though I much rather prefer to be the bearer of good news than bad. News that brings a smile is much more heart warming than worry." As the prince takes his seat as well, she gives him a respectful nod before alternating her looks between them. "We recently returned to Kundari in which we were seeking the wisdom of our father in such matters of alliances. I admit he was slightly displeased of the original offer being altered with the Sutherland, though he understood the logic behind it. None of us would have wanted a people who could not respect the Duchess."

After a moment, Nima continues. "My father spoke of remaining neutral instead of taking sides, there was talk of an alliance with an ally of yours, though there is nothing set in writing in regards to that either. And now the Laniveer have sent a letter to me, requesting the presence of myself and my brother, to have equal opportunity as you have had to attempt an alliance with the Kundari. I admit, our lands are not so vast as to be a cause of concern one way or the other, though we do offer a western port to the sea that Laniveer does not currently hold."


Tyrel looks over to Nima for a few moments, "You should be honored, Princess, his last request for a guest was made at the point of knife by several thugs. I have some hope that it will turn out better than the last ambassadors, my cousins, they were hung." He then pulls his mead over, "I also imagine your handmaid will fair better than my wife's lady in waiting, her funeral is in two days, you're welcome to attend if you should like, I do not know if you knew her well." He pours his cup full, "I will however say that you are incorrect, while your people are not numerous they are better suited to your lands than any other, should you wish to involve yourselves you would certainly alter duration, if not the outcome, of the war."


Callem nods at her son and focuses his attention on the Princess of Kundari. Silently, quiet, without a move, until she has finished.

"If you and your brother will leave, Your Highness, I can see why the news were so sad." Not seeming as an act of flattering, but his mood diminishes his light noticeably, though always as kind as gentle as he can be.

"Unfortunate news, however, are never away from us, Princess Nima. And such was the case of the original, altered, offer. I only wish you could have stayed longer with us, for a good offering - or the best offering - I should say, has always been in mind. An offer not only fitting a Princess, but a person who lived and near died by my side. Who stood with me and many should thank for the life of the King of Mobrin." He smiles, letting Tyrel talk.

"But, if you have already made decision upon visiting Laniveer, I can tell you we will grant you the best of protections until you reach the border, at least. Also, and it is needles to say, but Mobrin will always open its gates for you, as your home. And, last but not least, and only given our evident eagerness to bond our country to yours, can we ask you one last name to consider for us to offer? A name I cannot give you right now, for you have taken me by surprise, but a name that I could give you when the time is right and only of a person of real worth."


"Honored," Nima echoes the words of the Prince. "I think my father had already made up his mind about Laniveer, though admittedly, your lands and help would be far away should we find ourselves in need, yes? Location alone makes us just between Jadda and Weston with Laniveer influencing Jadda at the current time." There is a wince at the mention of the handmaid and a quick glance to Syri. The two handmaids, both nobles in their own rights, had become fast friends. "Yes, Your Highness. I had heard and I was going to propose an offer. Perhaps I could bring Lady Rowena with me to Laniveer in trade for your wife. My brother would deal with the exchange, though it would require huge amounts of trust on your part, I would write the father of Lady Rowena first to see if he was agreeable to the idea and tell him only in that capacity would we entertain talks with him."

"Your Majesty," Nima directs to the King. "We have not decided. I alone received the letter and have yet to discuss it with my brother. He would have to be the one to do the exchanges, for I am afraid the Laniveer do not recognize women as equals." A smile flits across her lips, "As most do not. It is understandable." She clasps her hands together, another smile given. "What was this best offering you were speaking of, Your Majesty? Would you tell it to me now?"


Tyrel considers for a few moments, "Father, I believe you wished to speak to any requests regarding the return of my wife lest I be overly emotional in the response." He looks into the cup of mead, "However, Princess, Weston is our kingdom, so you do border us directly and unless my mapmakers are quite poor we share a larger length of border with you than even Jadda does. Further the god-king of Jadda has, within recent memory, cast off the unjust rule of the Stewerts, I do not think now that the rest of the kingdoms are recognizing that they would be eager to subjegate themselves again. If you feel that you would have difficulty with your borders, Princess, I could offer to defend that border for you, I would only require your agreement to provide a small number of men to act as guides so that we do not cross into your lands and permission to land forces and move them through your port to the border posts."


The King takes a moment to answer, looking deep into Tyrel's eyes before continuing.

"You said you have not decided on your departure yet, Your Highness. So, I have three reasons to make you an offer, that perhaps you could consider enough to convince your brother as well." The Crown of Mobrin, on the table, drinks from the light of the candles as Callem holds it between two fingers, moving it just slightly. "I will consider the help you are offering us. Princess Ciarrah is our priority and I will certainly consider your words. If that can let us have her back, be sure I will do. Still, and as I told you, you have caught me by surprise. Such high decision can take me some time. I am an old man, Princess Nima, and we can not think as fast as you young people do." He chuckles and lets the Crown alone for a moment.

"If you give me a pair of days, maybe three, and if you can convince your brother to not leave within that time, I will have an answer about Lady Rowena. Besides, and if you are so gentle to enjoy our hospitality for that much time, I will give you that name I told you. But I spoke of three reasons, and I have ran out of them. Perhaps my mind slipped, did I mention I am an old man?" After a smile and a moment of pondering, he finally finishes, "Well, I promised three reasons, and I won't break my word. If you stay, I have heard that our cooks are going to grace us with rabbit in three days. Not only rabbit. A recipe from the Kilgour Family itself. Something you won't see anywhere else, all along Daeren. An unique offer, if you can stay just three days more." Looking at her, and waiting for an answer, the King leans back a bit and listens to his heir. Being a military matter, he lets the Marshal to speak his mind without any interruption, with a glance full of pride and calm.


Once more, Nima looks between them when the Prince does not answer in regards to his wife and her return. Perhaps it was to the King then. The rest of what he tells brings the warmth of a smile and an incline of her head. "What have you to gain with an alliance with us, Prince, that you could not gain with us remaining neutral? I do not pretend to be daft in the asking, yet I prefer to know exactly what you desire from an alliance. I believe you would keep your word in protecting the borders for us and we yet have nine Laniveer ships, though we are currently using them to protect our own borders."

The words of the King draw her attention and with warmth in her expression, she nods, not even slightly hesitant. "Of course, Your Majesty. Such things should never be decided lightly. One must weight both the benefits and the cost before an agreement is made. You take the time you will need, for there is no rush for the Kundari, my brothers and myself, to set out again. Three days? I agree. My brother will listen," she states with musing confidence. "For of all things, who could resist a sampling of the Kilgour recipe for something so tasty?" Her smile widens. "In three days time, I will meet you in this very dining room. Both of you, if you please, and I will bring my brother with me, if he feels well enough to join."


Tyrel says, "If you remain neutral you limit the benefits I can provide and we miss out on several opportunities. War requires the movement of a great number of men and considerable equipment. If you were an ally more gold and time would be invested in crafting those routes that are taken so that they might later be expanded to a road. I believe that was discussed in regards to the alliance with the three kingdoms of Aberdeen, Kundar and Mobrin, that we should trade to our advantages so that we might all prosper." He says, "Further, as an ally we could move more of our ships northward providing defense to your coast so that you do not stand alone. Few Laniveer ships could navigate the length of Jadda's coast then face an armadda, it limits our fronts even should Jadda not care to hinder Laniveeri ships. With ships freed from patrol trade can continue, Skingaard merchants can keep to the waters and bring luxuries, the grains of Sutherland, the furs of the forests, and of course the gold and silver of Sutherland can move to the Kundari people, if you were neutral to us, they would move, but not so freely."

Tyrel looks into his mead again then sets the cup down, "However, I must ask that you both excuse me. While my duck does not take precendence over breakfast my duties to the men do and this morning will begin shortly."


The cake, lonely, is taken care of as Tyrel speaks. Delicious, finely made, with an unbelievable aroma product of the best of cooks in Mobrin, meets a bittersweet end, eaten by the King. Many cakes would wish to end their days in such honor.

"Tyrel is right. But please, don't forget that it is not limited by the time the conflict with Laniveer lasts. You would have the protection from Mobrin until the day I finish my reign, and if Gods so allow, so much more than that. Which applies, as well, to our continued exchange of goods and culture - even when I hope it doesn't change whatever happens in the future." Callem pours some more Ice Wine on his cup. "Because, whatever happens, we know you are free to decide, and we will respect any choose you opt for."

When the Crown Prince leaves, a respectful farewell gesture is casted.

"Princess Nima," he adds, "You must think I am ungrateful and rude. Of course I am. I should not have waited so long for this. But thank you, very much, for your gift. Lord Janesen, the camel you gave me, is beautiful and healthy. He has liked the stables so far."


"What you say makes sense, Your Highness. During the three days you are to think on things, I will do the same and discuss it with my brother. I cannot give you a direct answer without sending a missive to my father and awaiting one in return, though I will send one right away as to the possibility of prospects and should have his response within the three days, if he returns one without speaking to his advisers. Otherwise, it will take slightly longer." As the crown prince leaves, she dips her head demurely only to turn her attention back to the King thereafter.

"Hopefully longer than only your reign, Your Majesty, though I expect that to be many, many years into the future. As for the goods and culture.." Her smile grows, warms, glows. "When your youngest princess is a little older, I have a niece, the daughter of my brother the heir, the older brother. She is almost the same age. Perhaps, if our alliances are formed, she would be allowed to come to Kundari and learn of our customs and culture. It would gladden me to share. He also has several sons, six children in all, that perhaps a son could come and squire here soon as well. His oldest is fifteen, his youngest only just born. We could share customs in that manner. Or even your grandson, the younger one, he could accompany your young princess to Kundari and learn together. There are many options."

At the mention of the camel, heat infuses her olive toned cheeks, and once more she ducks her head. "It is a pleasure you find so much joy in the gift. We also delivered one to Duke Crawford." Though the last may speak volumes of intentions and what had been assumed by Nima and the Kundari, she does not mention it again.


"Laela, of course." The King's smile grows as well, even more than before - which is not little to say! "I would love to. Everything I have seen from you and your brother has made me realize of the immense possibilities we have lost with so much distance from Kundari. Something I only wish to fix from now on. Trust me, Princess Nima," His voice is serious, though a little immerse in a light daydream, "If I could offer you every noble person in Mobrin as prospect, I would. Though, and many of us have found in the hard way, there are many /Duke Crawfords/ around. And many more than could make him look like a charming Prince." With only a few servants around, and knowing that he is the King and no one else, he looks confident enough to speak the truth of his mind in that way.

"But I think you mentioned a squire. And I happen to lack of one. What will I do when the time comes for me to march to battle again without a squire?" The question seems to be a real concern. "I have trusted my life in two Kundaris so far. Why not making it three? What should I need to do in order to request one of that fine young men you have told me as my personal squire?" He may be the King, but his new question does not sound imposing. More like a real question, as well.

"Lord Janasen pleased me, of course. And when three days have passed, do not think that I will let you give me such wonderful gift without receiving one in return. It is part of the culture of Mobrin, Princess Nima. I am sure you won't refuse."


"Princess Leala. I think it would be lovely when she is older. As for my nephew, as a squire, he would love to come. He was so jealous of Dastan getting to return with us. His name is Rasul and he is very well mannered and very hard working. He is the eldest son of my brother, so one day he will be ruler. I believe Kundari would benefit from the learning of the Mobrin ways as well." These are all ideas they could possibly do should the form an alliance, or even if they remained neutral. "Three days and we will see what is decided from you and your advisors."

Pleased with the way things are going in their talks, Nima does look forward to further discussions. "Oh please, Your Majesty, I expect nothing in return for the gift. Truly, it was intended for you. There is even a saddle, should you choose to ride one day. I will come with you should you opt to share the experience with me. I will ride my horse, also from Kundari."


"Three days. There is so much to be discussed, Your Highness." Callem rises his cup as if toasting, pondering everything talked so far. Alliances, marriages, squires, Princes and Princesses. A bright future that might come, just as fragile as the possibility of achieving it. Three days. No more, no less. "I can only thank the Gods for bringing your commission from Kundari here, Princess Nima. Many good things will come for both of our realms." He seems secure, confident. More than he should. More than he could. And more than he can. But still, the glass is risen and there is no more desserts on his plate. Save, of course, the apple cake. It has always been there. "Three days." He murmurs.


"The option my father was seeking other than Mobrin alliance was remaining neutral and wedding me off to Aberdeen, Skingaard, the Finger Isles, or some such as those." Lifting her own glass, Nima cannot help but to smile at his confidence and surety. Kings had it in spades, surely, as did her father when it came to his own will and the ability to get what he wished. "Three days," she murmurs, tipping her glass to her lips and taking a sip in return. Those impossibly light blue eyes, such a contradiction to her dark hair and her dark skin, lower as she replaces her glass to the table, and she notices the cake on his plates. "Not one of your favorites, Your Majesty?" Indicating it with an amused glance. "Perhaps I should guess what flavor of the pie? Winter berry?" Merriment warms her expression and with the talk of alliances settled for three days, she is content to leave it until then.


Letting the alliances talk fade in the background, Callem occupies himself of more immediate matters. Such as the pie. What kind of host could it be if he opted to turn a fine breakfast into a regular politics talk, with a guest that may - or may not - soon depart?

"Sometimes you leave you favorite to the end, Your Highness." The fork gets closer to it, to the apple cake, though still unbitten it would be hard to testify it is apple inside of it. "Winter berry? The very name of it makes it sound cold, doesn't it?" He looks, a bit amused, to her impossible blue eyes, just to shake his head in negative to her first assumption. "Would you like to guess again?"


"Then it is the matter of what your favorite is. Winter berry does not seem to be cold to me, though it seems to be persistent. What other fruit continues to grow through the coldest season? It is much like the heat of the desert. What fruits would dare defy the heat of the day and lack of water and yet find a way to survive. Such a fruit you must respect, for having the sheer will to live despite the odds. And they adapt to the extremes." As for guessing further, Nima smiles and shakes her head. "I regret I must go and find sleep before the day begins more fully. I rather enjoyed myself in the company of you and you son and I hope his duck in his bath was most enjoyable."

Amused, she glances towards his pie. "Perhaps we shall have one in three days time at the meal of rabbit we will share when we meet for business again and perhaps it will be flavored so sweet as to only enhance the negotiations." Dipping her head, she does bid her farewells. "I bid you a good morning, and a most happiest of days, Your Majesty. Truly, I am better for having spent time in your presence."


The King laughs, conceding it to her as some sort of victory. "I must admit that it is a better answer than I was expecting." But the fork finally touches the pie. Not hard enough to really open it. Not even to let a glimpse break the secret. "But, as much as I would love it to be a Winter Berry, Princess Nima, I am afraid it is still not one." Callem rises to his feet, offering a hand of help for the foreign to stand up. "But I wish you better luck next time, in your guesses. I suppose that surprises might happen. And the rabbit might be accompanied by Winter B—I mean," he grins, "By another cake."

"Have a good morning, Your Highness. I enjoyed our breakfast, and I am looking forward for the next time." Giving her a respectful nod, he adds, "Three days."


Nima accepts his hand as he offers it, and she rises, only to dip into a polite and proper curtsy, ducking her head demurely. "Another cake," she cannot help but to smile, her eyes still reflecting her merriment. "Good morning to you as well, I had a rather lovely time." Straightening, she moves from the table, nodding in agreement to the time frame before taking her leave.

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